


You Must Remember This

by theputterer



Series: cassian andor nonsense [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, F/M, Love Confessions, Near Death Experiences, Post-Rogue One, Secrets, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-19 17:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10644657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theputterer/pseuds/theputterer
Summary: Six months since Scarif, six months since they stole the Death Star plans, six months since Alderaan was obliterated, six months since the Death Star was destroyed, six months since they both woke up on Hoth, half-dead and in no small amount of shock.Six months, and Jyn and Cassian are at an impasse. She thinks he knows everything about her, and she doesn't know anything about him.The solution to this is a trip to the Atrivis Sector, to Cassian's past, for Jyn to meet the ghosts buried there.As it turns out, some ghosts are not done with the living just yet.As it turns out, some ghosts have more to say.As it turns out, Jyn might have known exactly who Cassian Andor is all along.[An alternate follow-up to GRAY AREAS, though you do not have to read that for this story to make sense.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You do not have to read GRAY AREAS or BLOOD BROTHERS for this to make sense.

 

_the past splits in two:_

_one stays in the past and dies_

_one past shape-shifts_

_walks with you_

\--Camille Rankine, from  _Incorrect Merciful Impulses_

 

* * *

 

When Jyn calls Cassian an enigma, he laughs in her face.

“I’m really, really not,” he says, smiling in a soft way she thinks she would appreciate, if it wasn’t somewhat mollifying, if it wasn’t on his face in the middle of what had been a heated argument.

They’d started arguing because it’s been six months since Scarif, six months since they stole the Death Star plans, six months since Alderaan was obliterated, six months since the Death Star was destroyed, six months since they both woke up on Hoth, half-dead and in no small amount of shock. Six months of being the only survivors of Rogue One, six months of eating meals together on Hoth, six months of casually sleeping together, six months of what Jyn understands to be dating.

Six months of Jyn quietly panicking, waiting for… something.

She’s settled into the Alliance with an almost shocking amount of grace, carrying the rank of Sergeant with a dignity that had surprised everyone, obeying orders with a minimal amount of complaint. It helps that she likes her squad; the so-called Pathfinders, a group of mercenaries with an overabundance of explosives and an enthusiastic lack of caution.

Cassian had been the one to introduce her to the Pathfinders, beginning with another Sergeant, Kes Dameron.

It’d been difficult at first to understand that that’s what he’d been doing, because Kes had taken one look at Cassian, there in the hallway on Hoth, and punched him.

If Jyn and Cassian had not just been released from medical, if she was not still a little dazed and stunned with all that had happened on Jedha and Scarif, then Jyn would likely have had a more volatile reaction to this assault than she had at the time, which had been to only stare, mouth somewhat agape.

Cassian had not expected the punch, not at all, and so he had dropped like a stone to the gray rock floor of the newly established base on Hoth.

“ _Kriff_ , Kes,” he’d grunted, pressing a hand to his face, his nose gushing blood.

“Don’t act like you don’t deserve it, Andor,” Kes had replied, sounding so furious, so savage, that Jyn thought back on Cassian’s soft words describing Kes to her ( _There’s someone you should meet, a friend of mine, I think you’d get along well_ ) and come to the conclusion that Cassian had made some kind of mistake, and had in fact been talking of someone else.

The reason for Kes’ anger had slowly become clear. He’d thought Cassian had gone to Scarif without saying goodbye, without leaving any kind of note of farewell.

“After everything, after Iego, and Corellia, and the move to Yavin 4, and those hours you and Shara would spend making all those kriffing Sernpidal vases, you didn’t even--”

“I _did_ ,” Cassian had said, softly, finally cutting Kes off, and before Jyn could jump in to ask about the events Kes was ranting over.

Kes had frowned. “You did?”

“I said goodbye. You don’t remember. You were in the medical wing, on some… pretty heavy pain meds--”

“So you should’ve left a _note!_ ”

Jyn had listened to a five minute shouting match between the two men, looking back and forth in utter bewilderment, listening to mentions of something about Iego, more about Sernpidal, referrals to pottery, and lots about someone named Shara.

It all had sounded completely nonsensical to her.

(Though if she’s being honest, the strangest tidbit of the conversation was definitely this suggestion from Kes Dameron that _Cassian_ had made _pottery_.)

It wasn’t the first time Cassian had confused her, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last.

But it had, perhaps, been the first time she’d fully understood the magnitude of the history that Cassian had, a history written in the lines of his face, the callouses on his hands, and the scars on his body.

Cassian has three horrific-looking blaster scars on his chest; two on his abdomen, and one on the upper right side of his chest. He also has a thin scar from a vibroblade stabbing on the left side of his abdomen, a smaller blaster shot scar on his shoulder, and a divot over his hip bone from yet another blaster shot.

She doesn’t know the stories behind any of these scars.

Cassian tends to get a very strange look on his face whenever he catches her looking at them, and so she bites her tongue, and doesn’t ask.

But he does lie very still, and let her brush her fingers over the scars, and so she tells herself that this is enough.

She doesn’t know how to be in a relationship, has never wanted to be in one before. She’s been on her own for so long, too long, six years until the Alliance picked her up on Wobani.

And now she’s always with people.

Kes Dameron, and the Pathfinders, who fight by her side, who laugh with her, who watch her back in battle. Rebels on Hoth, like Shara Bey, the eponymous Shara of Kes and Cassian’s shouting match, Kes’ wife and Cassian’s friend, who looks at Jyn with such kindness, who lends her sweaters with a kind of sweet nonchalance that Jyn has never experienced before. Even Alliance leaders, like Leia Organa, who takes the time to ask Jyn how she’s settling in, making sure she’s doing all right, and constantly reiterating how grateful the Alliance is for all of Jyn’s hard work and sacrifice.

And then there’s Cassian.

Cassian, who checks in with Jyn before and after he goes on missions. Cassian, who keeps the door to his room unlocked should Jyn decide she wants to steal one of his jackets. Cassian, who wakes her up from nightmares of Scarif, of her father, of the Death Star, with his soft voice and warm hands, with reminders that he’s there for her, still, in spite of it all. Cassian, who kisses her in the morning before she’s brushed her teeth, who she catches looking at her from the bed as she pulls on her clothes, who smiles at her from across a room like no one else is in it.

Cassian, who is so important to the Alliance.

Cassian, who is clearly well-liked among the rebels, who knows so many of the soldiers’ names, who plays sabacc with Kes and a handful of others at least once a month. Cassian, who is always in and out of debriefings with the perpetually-sour faced Draven, who sits still when Shara falls asleep on his shoulder in the middle of meetings. Cassian, who has some sort of understanding with Leia, communicated with rolling eyes and winks, and who Leia refers to exclusively as “Aach”, though as far as Jyn can tell, is the only one who does, and for reasons lost to everyone else.

Including Jyn.

In short: for all their time spent together, for everything that happened on Jedha, and on Eadu, and on Scarif, and everything in between, and everything in the time since, Cassian is a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and Jyn doesn’t know him at all, and it is grating on her.

And when she tells him as much, he _laughs_.

“Jyn,” he says. “You know me better than anyone else.”

She doubts this.

She’s fairly confident that Shara, Kes, and even Leia Organa all know Cassian better than she does.

She _wants_ to know him better. And this is a new thing for her, wanting to know someone. She’s spent years avoiding people as much as she could, only working with others when working with them meant food, or shelter, or weapons.

But now she has a team. People she might call friends. Leaders she thinks she actually trusts.

A bed to sleep in, food to eat, a place to rest and recharge and breathe.

And Cassian.

Cassian, who has displayed zero signs of wanting to talk about K-2SO, who died for them both on Scarif. Cassian, who stands so straight-backed around the military leaders, who has an odd way of retreating into his own head when writing reports. Cassian, who has absolutely no personal items, no mementos, no holograms, no _anything_ , anywhere in his room.

Cassian, who has, ostensibly, made a space for her in his life without actually letting her know about his life before her.

Jyn knows she shouldn’t be frustrated about this, that she should simply be glad that Cassian has decided to stick with her, but it still bothers her.

Because she isn’t sure she understands _why_.

Why he’s still at her side. Why he spends so much time with her. Why he smiles at her like that.

She apparently has a space in his life, but she doesn’t know what the space _is_ , what the shape of it is, what the parameters are, what she’s expected to make of it.

And she hates not knowing the _why_ of things.

And Cassian _knows this_.

He’d figured her out so quickly, in those first days they met. He’d figured out that she didn’t care about the news of a planet killer, because she _couldn’t care_ , because she had no way of destroying it. He’d figured out that she’d still chosen to trust him, even if she didn’t really have a choice.

And he’d chosen to trust her back.

_“Because I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me. Because I trust you, and I think you trust me, too. Because I do think we are on the same team. Because you did not care for the planet killer until your father’s message, and I think… I think part of why you did not care was because you did not think you could possibly destroy such a thing, and I think… I think you have no interest in things you cannot get a handle on, or control.”_

And he’d been right, and him being right had stunned her, because no one had understood her like that before.

Understood her, and still chosen to follow her.

She doesn’t know what to do with that kind of devotion.

She’s never had it before.

And she isn’t even sure she _has_ it now.

Six months since Jedha. Six months since her father died. Six months since she was walked into that conference room on Yavin 4 and made eye contact with the tall, dark-haired man looking at her from the side.

Six months, and she finally swallows her pride, and confronts him about it.

And he _laughs at her_.

“Jyn,” he says. “You know me better than anyone else.”

“I don’t know _anything about you_ ,” she says, snapping back, her voice furious and tense, and the desperation of it finally seems to reach Cassian, because the smile slips off his face, and he looks at her.

“I don’t…” And she swallows, gathering her words together, keeping her back straight, and refusing to look away from him. “Cass. I don’t know how old you are. I don’t know what your mother’s name was. I don’t know where you grew up. I don’t know where you met K-2SO. I don’t know what Kes was talking about when he mentioned Iego, and I don’t know why the Princess calls you ‘Aach’, and I don’t know why Shara keeps asking you about making kriffing _pottery_.”

Cassian has a peculiar look on his face, and it only deepens as she concludes her speech. He’d been sitting on his bed during this argument, but he stands now, and reaches for her.

“Jyn--”

She steps away, out of reach, and he freezes.

“And you know all of that about me,” Jyn says, not anywhere near finished. “You… You’ve read files, and reports about me, you know… You know my mother’s name, and where I was born, and how old I am, and where I grew up with Saw, and the Partisans, and I just…”

She sighs, deflating all at once, leaning against the wall.

“I don’t… Cass, I don’t even know where to begin,” she says, quietly.

Cassian looks at her, and she hates the look on his face, because he seems to be _pitying her_ , and the last thing she wants from him, of all people, is pity.

“So…” He pauses, and crosses his arms. “These are all… things you want to know. About me.”

“To start with.”

“What do you _already_ know?”

She frowns.

She thinks back to that first week, to the flight from Eadu to Yavin 4, after her father had died, when Cassian had tracked her down in the underbelly of the stolen Imperial shuttle, and crouched in the dark with her, and been more honest and candid with her then than she thinks he’s ever been with her since.

_“I did not understand my father for a long time. He always apologized to me, for being away so much, organizing a cell of rebel soldiers on Fest. I did not understand why he was doing it, or why he felt the need to apologize. I didn’t… resent him, but I didn’t understand him. I did not understand why he was never home, or why he left my mother. It was only after he was dead that I realized that even though he loved me, and loved her, he chose the cause over our family. He abandoned us, for the cause. It was not an abandonment that resulted in any of us dying, but it… It killed our family. We were never all together again.”_

“Fest,” Jyn says. “You mentioned something about Fest. And… And then you told me that your father was killed by the Old Republic, on Carida, when you were six.”

“Yes.”

“But you were only saying all that because you were trying to get me to trust you again, after the Alliance killed _my_ father--”

“I said more, then, too.”

Jyn blinks, and suddenly remembers what Cassian is talking about.

Her eyes slide to the open closet, and behind one of his coats, she sees the thin gray scarf hanging, looking very old and very worn.

Her scarf.

Except it was never hers.

_“Her name was Taraja. I gave this to her, eight years ago, from a trip to Corellia. She used to wear it all the time, everywhere she went. I cannot count the number of times I’d see her walking towards me, with this scarf wrapped over her hair.”_

_“She died?”_

_“Yes. Six years ago. This scarf is the only thing I have left of her.”_

She hadn’t known of the scarf’s tragic and very personal history with Cassian when she’d picked it up in the spare clothes room of the base on Yavin 4. She’d picked it because it’d looked like the most worn-down, the most second-hand, the most forgotten and left behind thing in that room. The kind of thing that deserved a second chance. The kind of thing that had been abandoned.

She might’ve been projecting too much on the scarf, but she’d picked it, and looped it around her neck, to keep her warm on Jedha.

And Cassian had stared at her like he’d been looking at a ghost.

_“Why are you wearing that scarf?” Cassian asks, and his voice is bizarrely hoarse, and she doesn’t like the way he’s looking at her._

_She raises an eyebrow. “Jedha’s a cold desert moon. I don’t want sand to get in my eyes.”_

_Cassian tells her that it’s the wrong time of year for sandstorms on Jedha._

_“Then it’s a scarf, and it’ll keep me warm,” Jyn says, speaking slowly, because Cassian is being ridiculous about this._

_“But why_ this _scarf?”_

It was later, after Jedha, after Eadu, only when they were headed to Yavin 4 again that he’d told her the story behind the scarf.

_“Cassian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know--”_

_“It’s all right. Exactly. You didn’t know. Last year, I… I decided that having the scarf around, looking at it all the time… It was too painful. Too difficult. So I donated it to the Alliance, in case someone else needed it, although I wasn’t really convinced anyone would. It’s… It’s tattered, and stained. I thought I’d put it in that room and I’d never have to see it again. But then you were there, and you actually picked it. I could not believe it.”_

_“I liked that it had a history.”_

_“It has a fantastic history. You chose well. And I think… I think the fact that you saw that, and that made you choose this scarf… I think that was when I started to trust you. It made me think you valued the same things I did, even if your reasons for valuing them were different. I think we are quite a bit alike, Jyn. We’re just… parallel lines.”_

_Parallel lines_. She’d liked those words, liked the significance of them, agreed that it was accurate.

Now, she isn’t so sure.

She has no grasp of any of Cassian’s history beyond these few sentences; she doesn’t actually know how much of their lives have run parallel.

He’s looking at the scarf with her now, and she knows that he’s remembered that conversation, too.

Jyn turns back, memorizes his profile, his slightly crooked nose, his dark hair, his brown skin, the deep lines around his eyes.

“You called us parallel lines,” she says. “Maybe this is where we diverge.”

Cassian’s head snaps around at that, and he stares at her, and there is no small trace amount of shock and hurt in his face; he looks a little like she’s stabbed him.

Jyn hates that look, and hates that she’s the one who put it on his face.

She doesn’t wait for him to speak.

She turns, and all but runs out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 A week passes, and Jyn doesn’t see Cassian once.

She tells herself that she isn’t avoiding him, that it just so happens that she’s been eating at different times than him, and that she has no reason to go to the parts of the base where Intelligence operates, and that there are blasters in the repair shop that need to be worked on, and so it’s perfectly fine for her to sequester herself in there, alone.

She goes to her room at the end of every day, and crawls into her cot, buries herself under a small mountain of blankets, and tells herself that she doesn’t miss him.

But she hasn’t been alone like this for six months, six months since Jedha burned, six months since Rogue One died, six months since she was introduced to Cassian Andor.

She curls up her body as tightly as she can, to keep warm, and talks herself into sleeping.

It is obvious to everyone that she and Cassian are no longer talking, and so Kes Dameron confronts her on this after a week has passed, tracking her down in her corner of the repair shop.

“What the hell did he do?”

“Why do you think he did something?” Jyn returns, barely looking up from her work to acknowledge Kes.

“I don’t, not really, but I want you to think I’m on your side.”

Jyn scowls.

Kes smiles. “Look, it… I’ve been married for a while now, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that it never matters who _started_ the fight, so long as you both finish it. Together.”

“That’s so poetic, Kes.”

“Seriously,” Kes says. “Whatever you’re fighting about, you can get past it. You just gotta talk to each other, first.”

“We’re not--” Jyn bites her lip, considers her options, and wonders if she really wants to get into this with Kes.

But Kes is someone who has only ever been kind to her, and friendly, who watches her back on their missions, who she’d trust with her life.

And Kes is someone who _knows_ Cassian, who might actually be able to offer something like advice.

Because it’s not like she’s really _mad_ at Cassian.

“We’re not… fighting,” Jyn says.

Kes’ eyebrows rise. “Uh huh. You’re just… no longer speaking. Just ‘cause. Right.”

“It’s…” Jyn searches for words, for the right words. Talking to people has never been her strong suit. “We’ve reached an… impasse.”

“An impasse… which is not a fight.”

“No, it’s…”

She sighs.

“He doesn’t _talk_ to me, and it’s driving me crazy. He seems perfectly content with everything as it is, but I… I feel like I barely even know him. I don’t know anything about who he is, or where he came from, and I… He knows so much about me, and it’s making me…”

Kes’ confused look turns sympathetic.

“You don’t think you’re equals,” he summarizes.

“Yeah.”

And she does think that’s it, when she gets down to it. Cassian is perfectly comfortable with her because he knows so many details about her, the little bits of her history that have brought her to where she is, to who she is. And she can’t be totally comfortable around Cassian, because she doesn’t have _any of that_ regarding him. No starting point, no mid point, no… Anything.

Kes nods, thoughtful. “Yeah. I get why that’d be rough. But, you know… Jyn, I’ve known Cassian for three, almost four years now. And I don’t know _sithspit_ about the guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he never talks about himself,” Kes says. “Don’t get me wrong; he’s very polite, and friendly, and he’ll listen to anyone for hours and hours, and he memorizes information about other people like it’s the easiest thing, and so he’ll always ask you about how so-and-so is doing, or if you ever got that new whatever, and so you think you’re really good friends. But he never volunteers anything about himself. It took me and Shara _years_ to realize this.”

Jyn stares, taking this in, and realizes that Kes is right.

She’s been having conversations with Cassian for months, talks over dinner on base, whispers over sheets in the dead of night, yells from one end of a ship to the other. But when she reflects back on these discussions, she realizes that they’ve been weirdly one-sided, where Cassian has asked her thoughtful and complicated questions about herself, and her family, and her life, and then always followed-up later with more conversation.

Everything he’s said about himself has been so vague, so less detailed, and it horrifies her that she never noticed.

He’s just been that good.

Because he’s a _spy_ , and that’s how spies talk, how they communicate.

Maybe she can be mad at Cassian.

“So… So what _do_ you know?” Jyn asks, twisting a screwdriver around in her hands.

Kes shrugs. “Kriff, uh… his mother was from Sernpidal? That’s why he started talking to Shara and me in the first place. Shara’s from Sernpidal, too, and I guess their hair looks similar. Cass couldn’t stop staring at her the first time he saw her. I mean, I couldn’t blame him for it, Shara’s beautiful, but he looked really freaked out. He saw us staring back, so he came over and apologized, and introduced himself, and told Shara that she has hair like his mother and sister’s.”

“Cassian has a _sister?_ ”

“Mentioned her that one and only time,” Kes says, dryly. “I didn’t exactly get the impression that she’s still around. I guess if you ask him about her, uh… Tread lightly.”

Jyn is quite sure Cassian has never mentioned a sister. He’s mentioned his mother, had mentioned his father leaving her, and she realizes now that his description of his family had been just general enough to leave space for the existence of other members, while at the same time giving her the impression that it’d only been him and his parents.

For months she’s thought they had that in common, being only children, but she realizes now that this isn’t true.

Kes’ voice interrupts her disappointed train of thought.

“How’s he doing about Kay, by the way? He must be pretty cut up about losing him.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jyn says, frowning. “He’s never wanted to talk about him. I’ve asked, but…”

“Eh, it isn’t you,” Kes says. “He and Kay always had a… complicated relationship, you could say.”

“What do you mean?”

Kes snorts. “No way. I’m not touching that one. You gotta ask Cass about that.”

Jyn groans. “That’s been the _problem_ \--”

“Yeah, but I mean… You actually knew Kay-Tu. So it’s a place to start. You didn’t know his mother, or his sister, or--”

“Taraja,” Jyn adds.

Kes pauses. “Who?”

“Taraja. She…” Jyn trails off, because Kes looks completely bewildered. “ _You_ don’t know about Taraja?”

“Who the hell is Taraja?”

Jyn stares at Kes.

Maybe she does know a thing or two about Cassian that no one else knows.

“I…” She swallows. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Kes has a small grin on his face.

“Okay,” he says. “Maybe _that’s_ where you start.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jyn is back in her room, idly turning her kyber crystal over and over in her hands, when there’s a knock at the door.

She gets up, opens it, and comes face to face with Cassian.

He has his bag slung over his shoulder, and his ever-present blue parka over an arm.

“You have a mission,” Jyn says, and it isn’t a question.

“Sort of,” Cassian says. “We’re going to the Atrivis Sector.”

“ _We?_ I’m not Intelligence, I’m not in your--”

“I know,” Cassian says. “Which is why this is only _sort of_ a mission. The Pathfinders don’t have anything for at least a week, and so I… I’d like for you to go with me to the Atrivis Sector.”

“With you,” Jyn repeats.

Cassian nods. “Yeah. Just me.”

“Why?”

“Officially, we’re checking in with the Atrivis Sector Force,” Cassian says. “That’s the mission part.”

“Okay.”

“Unofficially, I…” He sighs, and runs his hand through his hair, and Jyn notices how tired he looks, how the lines on his face have seemed to deepen, how his dark eyes are almost bigger than normal with a lack of sleep.

“Unofficially,” he says, again, “Unofficially, I’m trying. To… To help you understand me.”

Jyn considers this.

“Fest is in the Atrivis Sector,” she says, slowly.

Cassian nods. “It is. So is Mantooine. We’ll be visiting both planets.”

“Why? Officially, and… Unofficially?”

Cassian nods again, and there’s a small smile on his face. “Officially, we’re going to Fest to see Travia Chan. Unofficially, we’re going to Fest so I can show you where I buried my parents, and my sister.”

Jyn swallows, her heart suddenly beating very loudly in her ears.

“Officially, we’re going to Mantooine to see Loom Carplin. Unofficially, we’re going to Mantooine so I can show you where I cremated Taraja.”

“Oh,” Jyn says, voice small.

“I thought it would be a… good place. To begin. You were wondering where to begin, and this was what I came up with.” He swallows, and Jyn realizes he’s nervous. “But you don’t have to come with me. If you don’t want to. I can check in with the Atrivis Sector Force on my own. I just… I’d like you to come with me. I want to show you Mantooine and Fest. I want to show you where I’m from. Is… Is this okay? Will you come with me?”

His voice is just as small as hers, and she realizes that he’s truly trying here, that he’s probably spent the past week trying to get this trip together, that he’s heard her words, and this is both his apology and the start of his explanation.

She can almost see the ghosts peeking out from the corners of his eyes as he looks at her now.

She wants to meet them.

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s okay. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The formatting for the quote from Camille Rankine's gorgeous INCORRECT MERCIFUL IMPULSES is not done well, but I don't know enough about how to format here to fix it. I highly recommend checking out her poetry.
> 
> All of the Cassian Andor backstory discussed in this story comes from GRAY AREAS, and is described in greater detail there. The italicized quotes came from scenes in GRAY AREAS, though I think I've summarized the significance of them here well enough without you actually having to read the ROGUE ONE chapters from that story.
> 
> The point of this story, I think, was to write Cassian from someone else's point of view, since I lived in his head for three months.
> 
> The point is also to give Cassian an ending where he survives, too, of course.
> 
> I am still writing this though I will stick to the every-other-day posting schedule. I'm thinking the story will be 40k by the time I'm done, though GRAY AREAS got away from me, so who really knows.
> 
> I am theputterer at tumblr, please do drop a line there, or here!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s good,” Loom says, suddenly.
> 
> Startled, Jyn looks up at him. “Sorry?”
> 
> “Cassian Andor,” Loom says, smiling, and Jyn cannot handle how much this giant, military-minded man smiles. “There is a lot of bad blood between Mantooians and Festians, but Cassian traverses through it like it’s nothing. He speaks our language, and understands many of our customs. Not many Festians care to learn so much about us. Not many Festians fall in love with Mantooians. He’s an unusual man, but… A good one.”

 

_The dead leave us starving with mouths full of love._

-Anne Michaels, from “Memoriam”

 

* * *

 

They leave the same day.

The Atrivis Sector is way on the other side of the galaxy from Hoth, and so it will take them almost eight hours to get there.

Cassian spends most of the flight trying to teach Jyn how to pilot.

“You should know how,” he says, and she’s almost startled by the vehemence in his voice. “Every rebel should know how to fly. It means you always have a way to escape.”

“I wanted to learn, it just… never happened,” Jyn says, and this is the truth.

“I believe you. It isn’t too late for you to learn, though.”

Cassian is a kind and patient teacher, Jyn discovers. He doesn’t hover, doesn’t exasperate, doesn’t scold Jyn for her lack of knowledge or frequent questions. Rather, he speaks slowly, and repeats himself when Jyn asks him to, and goes into detail in some areas, and only skims the more complex techniques and processes that Jyn doesn’t actually _need_ to know to fly.

“When did you learn how to pilot?” Jyn asks, after Cassian has walked her through how to land on an ice planet versus a jungle one.

“When? I think I was… Eight, or nine.”

“That seems young?”

Cassian smiles. “I’d already been fighting for a few years by that time. I probably should’ve learned earlier, but…”

“But?”

“I was too small,” Cassian says, gesturing to the numerous switches above Jyn’s head that she has to stretch to reach.

She laughs, but she knows he isn’t joking, that his small stature was probably the reason he didn’t learn to pilot until he was eight or nine.

She blinks, and tries to picture Cassian as a child.

It’s almost impossible.

 

* * *

 

They go to Mantooine first.

Jyn is convinced she’s never seen a planet as _bright_ as Mantooine. It’s all desert, all brilliant yellow and orange sand, dominated by a near-painfully bright sun that sends heat spilling through the interior of the ship. She’s sweating instantly, and re-ties her hair back up, off her neck.

“Here,” Cassian says, and he hands her a white scarf.

“What’s this?”

“Sandstorms,” he replies. “Unlike Jedha, sandstorms on Mantooine are near-constant. A few times a week. Wrap this around your face; it’ll shield your eyes. And leave your jacket, you won’t need it.”

Jyn nods, and accepts the scarf, and looks at Cassian more carefully.

He’s taken off his jacket, and is wearing a white shirt, and she’s never seen such a light color on him before. She likes the way it looks on him, and she wonders why he doesn’t wear white more often.

She looks up, and sees he has the old gray scarf looped around his neck.

Cassian catches her looking, and grimaces.

“She never wore it here,” he says, and Jyn nods.

“It’s fine, don’t--”

“Jyn,” Cassian says. “If you have questions… _Ask_. That’s why we’re here.”

“I thought we were here to see Loom Carplin.”

Cassian’s mouth thins, and maybe Jyn’s being petulant, maybe she’s being unreasonable, but she’s in a strange land, and looking at what she thinks is a past version of Cassian, one who wore white, and loved a mysterious girl in the gray scarf.

Jyn follows him out of the ship, and into the suffocatingly brilliant sunlight.

 

* * *

 

Mantooians, as it turns out, wear a lot of white.

Jyn sticks out like the foreigner she is, in her dark pants and gray shirt, although the white scarf does help her look less odd, and she expects that this is why Cassian gave it to her. She notices that the majority of Mantooians have black skin, and keep their hair wrapped in scarves of all shades and colors, and imagines that she’d stick out for these reasons anyway, regardless of what clothes she was wearing.

Cassian, who is wearing a white shirt, somehow seems to be drawing more frowns, more glares, than Jyn.

She steps closer to him as they make their way through Mazl, which Cassian has told her is the capital of (and biggest city on) Mantooine.

“Why is everyone looking at you like that?” Jyn asks, wrapping her hand around his wrist, and nodding towards an old woman scowling at Cassian from a restaurant window.

Cassian doesn’t pretend to not know what she’s talking about.

“I’m Festian,” he says.

“Right…”

“There is a lot of bad blood between Mantooine and Fest,” he continues, murmuring softly, leaning over her so she can hear him over the chatter of the streets. “The two planets have been fighting with each other, more or less, for a very long time. We tend to distrust each other.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Jyn mutters, glaring at a man dressed in head to toe sky blue who’s eyeing Cassian like he’s scum.

“Relations are better, these days,” Cassian continues. “The Fest Rebellion and Mantooine Liberators joined together a few years ago to form the Atrivis Resistance Group. When they joined the Alliance, they became the Atrivis Sector Force.”

They’ve reached a nondescript white building, at the end of a long city block. They stop in front of it, and Cassian smiles at her.

“If there’s one thing Festians and Mantooians have in common,” he says, “It’s our mutual hatred for the Empire.”

“But everyone looks like they want to attack _you_.”

“ _Centuries_ of fighting, Jyn,” Cassian says, looking entirely unbothered by Jyn’s words. “It’s just bad blood.”

And with that, he knocks on the door of the building.

Jyn keeps her grip on Cassian’s other wrist, while her free hand moves for the blaster at her side. She wants to be prepared, to be ready, for someone to attack Cassian, for her to retaliate, since the last time Cassian had been hit in her presence had been with Kes Dameron, and she’d been completely unable to muster up any kind of response.

Scarif still haunts her, but it’s been almost seven months now, and she has her wits about her again.

The door opens, and a hook-nosed man stares down at them.

He looks at Jyn with faint curiosity, but his face twists in a hateful scowl when he spots Cassian.

He spits something at Cassian, who doesn’t hesitate before replying just as scathingly.

Both the man and Jyn are taken aback.

The man, likely because Cassian has not only understood his language, but been able to respond in it.

Jyn, because Cassian being able to speak Mantooian is just another thing she hadn’t known about him.

The man speaks again, voice lilting at the end in a question.

“Cassian Andor,” Cassian replies. “And Jyn Erso. We’re with the Alliance. Jyn doesn’t speak Mantooian, so can we switch this conversation to Basic?”

The man’s angry face clears somewhat.

“Loom said you were coming,” he says. “Get in, before you’re spotted. You might be wearing white, but you still stick out in the sunlight like the gray ice you crawled out of, Festian.”

“Friendly,” Cassian mutters, but goes inside. Jyn follows, her uneasiness mounting.

The building is achingly darker than the bright Mantooian sunlight outside, and Jyn has to blink several times to get her eyes to adjust.

The building is bigger than it appears to be from the street, and looks like the main conference rooms back on base on Hoth. There are boards with star maps, and data charts, and stacks of papers and data pads on every surface. Blasters and knives line the walls, while a conservator in the corner hums, bins of water piled neatly next to it. There are people everywhere, talking in small clusters, carrying boxes of ammunition, and crates of med kits.

They all openly stare at Cassian and Jyn, though Jyn takes some comfort in that they look less hostile than the man who’d greeted them at the door.

A few hands move to rest on blasters, though, and so Jyn keeps her back straight, and glowers.

The man leads them through various rooms, and Jyn tries to keep her gaze away from Cassian’s back, and instead on the Mantooians who scowl so harshly at him. He hadn’t told her about this aspect of Mantooine, that everyone would treat him like garbage on sight, and she wonders why he’d kept it to himself.

Maybe he’d wanted her to have an open mind, to not be scornful of Mantooine and its people until she’d had a chance to see it all for herself.

She knows that the _unofficial_ reason they’re here at all is because Cassian had cremated Taraja here, and she’d assumed that meant Taraja was Mantooian.

She doesn’t know how to reconcile this with the hatred from the Mantooians she’s seen so far.

She follows Cassian into a smaller room, in time to see a stunningly huge man with shoulder-length gray hair make a beeline to Cassian, and shake his hand.

“Cassian Andor,” the huge man says, beaming. “A pleasure, a pleasure.”

“Hello, Loom,” Cassian says, just as warmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you too,” the man replies. “We heard about your incredible achievement. Stealing the Death Star plans? Absolutely outstanding. No better, braver soul has come out of this Sector.”

Cassian’s skin flushes somewhat at the praise, and Jyn smiles.

“My team was just as responsible,” Cassian says, and he turns, and beckons Jyn forward. “Loom, this is Sergeant Jyn Erso of Alliance Special Forces. She led the mission to Scarif. Jyn, this is Loom Carplin, chief of staff and second-in-command of the Atrivis Sector Force.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Jyn says, holding out her hand.

Loom laughs, shaking her hand. “You sound just like Cassian, the first time I met him. Couldn’t not call me ‘sir’. Please, call me Loom, Sergeant.”

“Jyn for me then, please.”

“Jyn,” Loom says, and his smile is just as bright as the Mantooian sun outside. “I’m honored. The Alliance owes you a great debt.”

He is not the first to tell Jyn this, but the words leave her twitching and uncomfortable nonetheless. She’s never known how to respond, usually settling for some kind of awkward shrug, or an excuse to flee the room.

Cassian rescues her.

“We’ve brought intelligence from the Alliance,” he says, gesturing to his bag. “And we’re here to listen to whatever you have to tell us about Imperial movements in the Atrivis Sector.”

Loom nods. “Of course. Are you checking in with Travia, too? She’s on Fest this week.”

“Yes, we’re headed there next.”

“She’ll be most pleased to see you,” Loom says. “She’d never admit it, but she cheers up whenever you’re on Fest. The Rebellion there is not the same without you.”

Cassian smiles, but it’s a little sad. “I know. I miss Fest, too. But the Alliance is headquartered on Hoth these days, if you haven’t heard.”

Loom roars with laughter, his large body shaking with it.

“So it’s just like home for you, Cassian.”

“Yeah,” Cassian says, but his eyes slide past Loom, and lock on Jyn. She stares back.

Cassian smiles, and this smile is brighter, more true.

“Just like home,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Discussing military movements and strategies with leaders is very much not Jyn’s area, and so she hangs back, and barely speaks, and instead listens and watches Cassian as he talks to Loom, as he takes pages and pages of notes, as he studies maps and charts with an experienced eye.

She knows that Cassian has been fighting for a long time, since he was six years old, as he snapped to her on the shuttle after Eadu, but the gravity of his work, the extensiveness of it, had been lost to her.

The rebels on base on Hoth all respect him, but she thinks it’s the open awe, the grudging admiration in the eyes of these Mantooian and Atrivis Sector rebels, that is truly striking.

A few of them still look at him with dislike, but most are thoughtful, and reverent.

Every now and then, someone says something in Mantooian, and Cassian, after a short pause and a frown, comes up with an answer in the same language, and the respect from the assembled fighters only grows.

_Bad blood_ , Jyn thinks, and she has so many questions.

She’s always had questions about Cassian, and she’s supposed to be getting answers now, but she’s pretty sure she just has more than ever.

The meeting eventually adjourns, and Jyn watches as Cassian leans over to speak to the woman who’d been introduced as the leader of the Iridium Rebels.

Loom approaches Jyn, at her position against the back wall of the room.

“How do you like Mantooine?” he asks.

“It’s very bright,” Jyn says. “You have a beautiful sun.”

Loom laughs. “I will not be offended if you don’t like it, Jyn. The sun, the heat… It is not for everyone.” He nods his head back at Cassian. “Particularly Festians.”

“Because Fest is… cold?”

She’s inferred as much, from the man at the door’s comment about Cassian _crawling out of the ice_ , and Loom saying that Hoth, the barren snow planet, should remind Cassian of Fest.

“Very,” Loom confirms. “All gray, ice-covered rock. Snow as far as the eye can see. Cities built in spaces where no cities should be. Underground tunnels used for travel and commerce.” He shudders. “It is… an acquired taste. Cassian has told you that Fest and Mantooine do not have a kind history?”

“Yeah.”

“Our polar opposite climates only add to our mutual dislike,” Loom says, with a sigh. “We find it difficult to understand the other, as we live so differently. Cassian Andor, a Festian, is unusual in his respect for Mantooine.”

“You know him well?”

“No, not at all,” Loom says, shaking his head. “We’ve only met the one time, at the signing of the Declaration of Rebellion. But I know Travia Chan, and Travia has known Cassian since he was a child. She’s very fond of him.”

“Travia Chan founded the Fest Rebellion,” Jyn surmises.

“Oh, no, not quite. She founded an insurrectionist cell in Edur, a city on Fest, but the Fest Rebellion that Cassian grew up in, that Travia eventually led, that still exists to this day, was started in the capital city of Fulcra by Gabriel Andor.” At Jyn’s startled look, Loom says, “I’ve assumed Cassian is related to Gabriel Andor, but I don’t know for sure. It’s never seemed like my place to ask.”

Jyn’s not sure it’s even her place to ask.

She has other questions.

“You started fighting on Mantooine?” She checks.

“Oh, yes. From the very beginning, I’m proud to say.”

“Did you… Cassian mentioned someone, um… Someone called Taraja?”

Loom’s face brightens, though there is a hint of melancholy at the edges.

“Taraja, of course,” he says. “Taraja Ya’qul. Great girl. Brilliant, brave, clever. She was with us for many years, though she left with a few others… I don’t remember when. She was a teenager, I believe.” Loom sighs. “Cassian told me she died. I was very sorry to hear it. I’d hoped we would see her again, if not with us on Mantooine, then with the Alliance on Corellia.”

“Why Corellia?”

Loom frowns. “Well, Cassian was part of the Corellian Resistance, before it was absorbed into the Alliance. When we met that first time, he asked me if I’d known Taraja… Much like you have.”

Jyn flushes, and looks at her feet.

Loom continues speaking. “He wanted us on Mantooine to know she’d died for the cause, I believe. She was a great loss. To him in particular, I understood, though he did not actually say so.”

“Yeah,” Jyn says, because she knows that much.

Cassian carried Taraja’s gray scarf around with him for years after she died, only for Jyn to stumble upon it on Yavin 4 and appropriate it for herself.

_“It has a fantastic history. You chose well. And I think… I think the fact that you saw that, and that made you choose this scarf… I think that was when I started to trust you.”_

She looks at Cassian, across the room, and at the gray scarf looped loosely around his neck.

“He’s good,” Loom says, suddenly.

Startled, Jyn looks up at him. “Sorry?”

“Cassian Andor,” Loom says, smiling, and Jyn cannot handle how much this giant, military-minded man smiles. “There is a lot of bad blood between Mantooians and Festians, but Cassian traverses through it like it’s nothing. He speaks our language, and understands many of our customs. Not many Festians care to learn so much about us. Not many Festians fall in love with Mantooians. He’s an unusual man, but… A good one.”

“Yes,” Jyn says, because she cannot possibly disagree.

Regardless of whoever Cassian is now, and whoever he’s been in the past, she knows, with certainty, that he’s good.

She watches him, from across the room.

 

* * *

 

Loom gives both Jyn and Cassian long handshakes before they leave, and reminds Cassian that the Atrivis Sector Force is always available to him, should he decide to retire from work at Alliance headquarters.

“I know, Loom,” Cassian says, gently.

“That invitation extends to you, Jyn,” Loom adds, winking at Jyn. “Should you ever tire of Alliance work. We’d be very happy to have you here, on Mantooine, or our main base on Generis.”

“Thank you,” Jyn says, and she means it. She knows the invitation is akin to high praise from Loom.

Loom says something in Mantooian to Cassian then, and Cassian grins, and replies with the same words.

“Good Mantooian,” Loom says, and Cassian laughs.

“Thanks, Loom,” he says. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Glad to hear it. Goodbye, Cassian. Goodbye, Jyn.”

“Goodbye,” Jyn returns.

She and Cassian walk out the door, and it closes softly behind them.

The sun is lower in the sky, a little dimmer, but still brighter than just about any sun Jyn has ever seen. She and Cassian walk through the streets of Mazl, and Jyn looks around, taking in the bright colors that dominate everywhere she turns, on the people and the buildings and the vendor stalls and the speeders, more color than she has seen as of late on Hoth, or even, really, in her life before.

“It’s so colorful, here,” she says.

Cassian nods. “Mantooians tend to prefer lighter colors, to detract from the heat of the sun. That’s why white in particular is so plentiful.”

“Oh,” Jyn says. It makes sense.

“What did you think of Loom?”

“He’s very nice,” she says.

Cassian laughs. “Yeah. I was a little overwhelmed by him, the first time I met him. I wasn’t used to calling superiors by their first names. Still aren’t, to be honest.”

“The other Mantooians were impressed with you, too,” Jyn adds. “That you can speak Mantooian.”

“I speak it very poorly,” Cassian says. “But very few Festians bother to learn any of it, so being able to speak even a little bit, as I can, is almost remarkable.”

“Loom said you spoke good Mantooian.”

“He was being polite,” Cassian says. “What I said there, when we were leaving; it’s a Mantooian farewell. It translates as a wish for good luck, and plentiful health. The kind of thing you say when you don’t expect to see someone for a while. It’s a traditional sign of respect, but not something outsiders would be expected to know. That’s why he was impressed.”

“Taraja taught you Mantooian,” Jyn says.

It wasn’t what she meant to say, but it’s still somehow what she ends up saying.

Cassian slows his walk, turning to look at Jyn. His face is passive, and Jyn is desperate to know what he’s thinking.

“She did,” he says, slowly. “Some. As much as she could get me to understand. And I taught her some Festian. She spoke better Festian than I speak Mantooian, but that isn’t a surprise. She was better than me at everything.”

“Loom speaks very highly of her.”

“Everyone does,” Cassian says. “She was amazing. I…”

He sighs, and looks at Jyn, and Jyn is startled by the emotion in his eyes, more emotion than he usually lets her see from him. She only gets hints of it, when she catches him watching her when she’s not looking, or when someone mentions K-2SO, or when Shara talks about Sernpidal and the vases, or when Kes refers to Iego.

She realizes that the emotion she’s been witnessing has been pure Cassian.

Everything he is, everything he hides.

“I…” He says again, and frowns, looking down at the street. They’ve stopped walking, and have created a bit of a blockade, Mantooians shoving past them and giving them dark looks for the delay. Jyn couldn’t care if she tried. She stares only at Cassian.

But Cassian is bothered by the dark looks being shot his way, the muttered curses only he understands.

He takes her hand.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out of the city. Into the desert. I want to show you something.”

 

* * *

 

Cassian makes Jyn fly them out of Mazl, and towards the slowly-setting brilliant red sun that dominates the horizon, that pollutes the soft blue sky. He leans over her shoulder, pointing out the right gears and switches to fly the ship smoothly, offering a piece of advice or two, but largely leaving her to her own devices.

He points to a patch of yellow sand that looks just the same as the miles and miles of empty sand around it, and tells her to land there.

She lands the ship, jolting a little as it sinks into the thick sand.

They disembark.

It’s still hot, still much hotter than most planets Jyn has been on, and the sun still overwhelms the landscape, but the winds have died down somewhat, and so the sand only skims over Jyn’s boots, rather than attempt to bury her in it.

She takes off her white scarf, and follows Cassian over the sand.

He stops, abruptly, and she almost runs into him.

Cassian, in his white shirt, with his brown skin, seems to glow in the light of the sunset. She stands still, and watches him as he walks a few more steps before her, looking down at the golden sand, and then up again, at the flame-colored sunset.

Jyn has no idea what he’s doing, or looking for.

But he comes to some sort of decision, and stops, and turns to look at her again.

“Here,” he says, nodding. “We… She was in a gray box, and we set it on fire, here, until she was nothing but ashes. And then we stood there, where you are now, and we watched the ashes scatter, into the sand, and the sky.”

“We?”

“Me. And Kay.”

It is the first time Cassian has said K-2SO’s nickname, or even referred to him, in the six, now almost seven months since he died on Scarif. She sees how the name affects him now, how he swallows, and looks down at the sand.

“Kay offered, to… To light the box. To burn her. But I… It seemed important that I be the one to do it. I’d brought her back here. I was going to bury her, because that’s what we do on Fest, we bury the dead, but a waitress in Mazl told me that Mantooians burn their dead. She told me the sand shifts and moves too much for proper burial. If I’d tried to bury Taraja, the box she was in would’ve been uncovered in a week, and I’d just have to do it again, and again. The waitress, she asked me, _What kind of peace, and rest, is that?_ ”

For the first time, it isn’t Jyn speaking, and Cassian listening, and offering nothing.

For the first time, it’s Cassian speaking, and Jyn listening, and not interrupting.

“Before I cremated her, I talked to her, even though she could not have heard me, even though she was dead,” Cassian says. “I told her I hoped that this was okay. Bringing her back to Mantooine, and cremating her here. It wasn’t… We’d never talked about it. What to do with the other if we’d died. I think… I think it was something we knew was inevitable, but we just didn’t want to acknowledge. I can’t say what she thought, but I… I always thought I’d be the first to go. I thought I’d leave her. She had this habit of coming back to me. It didn’t make sense that she’d leave me for good, before I could leave her.”

Cassian shrugs. “A lot of what she did, for me, didn’t make sense though, so. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

He looks up at Jyn then, hands in his pants pockets.

“Ask. Whatever you want to, just… Ask.”

“When did you meet her?”

“Fifteen years ago,” Cassian says at once. “I was eleven. She was thirteen. The Port of Mazl. I was on a reconnaissance mission for the Fest Rebellion, to investigate odd movements of Imperial ships in the Sector, and I literally ran into her in a pipe at the Port. I thought she was going to kill me, but instead… She decided to trust me. She looked at me, and she saw we were the same.”

“You’re twenty-six.”

Cassian laughs. “Yeah. I could’ve started with that. Yes, I’m twenty-six. Tara was two… almost three years older than me.”

“What did she look like?”

“She was as tall as me,” Cassian says, and Jyn isn’t sure why, but this surprises her. “She had black skin, and wavy black hair. A scar on her right knee from a blaster shot she got when she was fifteen. Another scar on her lower back from a dagger, she was eighteen. When she wasn’t on Mantooine, she wore a lot of gray, and black, but she often had blue paint around her eyes, I think to make her feel closer to Mantooine, when we were so far away from it. She had the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. She was… She was beautiful.”

Jyn nods, trying to picture this woman, trying to come up with a composite sketch based off Cassian’s sorrowful words.

“You were far from Mantooine?”

“We met when we were children, for only a few hours,” Cassian says. “We communicated through hologram after that for a few years, until I left Fest. I thought I’d never see or talk to her again. I went to Coruscant, and Taraja turned up there when I was seventeen. I couldn’t believe it.” His mouth quirks. “I was… not in a good place, then. And she was right on time. She had a talent for being right on time.”

“How long were you together?”

“Three… Three and a half years. From when I was seventeen, until she died, when I was twenty.”

“When did you fall in love with her?”

“I _knew_ , and told her, I was in love with her when I was nineteen,” Cassian says. “But I started loving her a long time before that, probably since I saw her the first time. She had so much _life_ in her. So much _light_. It was overwhelming, for an eleven-year-old boy from a gray ice planet like Fest.

“But we got older, and we were both… We were very similar. I often felt like she could read my mind. She knew what I was going to do before I did. She accepted me, and all the horrible things I did, and she never made me feel like I had to apologize for any of it. She _understood_ it. Understood _me_. I was… not light, not at all, and she glowed, and she loved me still. I fell very hard, and very quickly.”

Jyn nods again, her lips twisting, wrapping her arms around herself.

Cassian speaks again.

“I’m not telling you any of this to… to make you feel bad,” he says, slowly. “I’m telling you, because… because Tara was an important part of my life, for a very long time. And you want to know me, and _I_ want you to know me, and that means you should know about Taraja.”

“‘Course,” Jyn says.

He’s finally giving her information about himself, information she can catalog, information she can know.

Cassian Andor is twenty-six years old. Cassian Andor can speak Mantooian. Cassian Andor was part of the Fest Rebellion, and the Corellian Resistance.

Cassian Andor loved Taraja Ya’qul.

Jyn nods, and gathers her thoughts together.

“She… died. On Coruscant?”

“Yes,” Cassian says, quietly, and Jyn can barely hear him over the soft, hot wind. “I was with her. I saw it, the whole thing. I… I held her in my arms. I told her that it was okay, that she could go now. I told her she’d done enough. I thought… It seemed like the kind of thing she’d want to hear. I know it’s what I want to hear, before I die, anyway.

“She told me to keep going,” he continues. “To keep fighting. As long as I can. So I promised her I would. I said… Well. I think you already know what I said.”

And Jyn does.

She remembers the Imperial shuttle, and the flight from Yavin 4 to Scarif. She remembers sitting on the floor behind Bodhi and K-2SO as they flew, remembers Cassian coming up the ladder, remembers him crouching in front of her, remembers her fear, her fear that they’d fail the soldiers below, who had decided to follow her.

She remembers looking at Cassian, who had all but officially changed his allegiance to her, who had found her a team, who looked at her so kindly, so warmly.

She remembers asking him a question, needing his assurance, a reminder of his devotion, one more time.

_“Are you with me?”_

“All the way,” Jyn breathes.

“I promised her, first,” Cassian confirms. “And it was a promise that I never fulfilled. Not until you came along. Not until I realized that what Tara really meant was that I needed to keep going until I found the right cause to die for. The right people to die with. And so I promised you the same thing. And I’m still keeping it. I kept my promise to Taraja, but you… I’m still working on yours. I hope… I hope you understand that. I hope you understand what I’m telling you, Jyn.”

And she thinks she does.

“I’m so sorry, Cassian,” she says.

“You said that to me already. Back on the shuttle from Eadu.”

“I know,” Jyn says. “But, I… I think I’m starting to get it. Now. Get what she meant to you. It isn’t something I can… I can’t really understand, because I’ve never--”

She breaks off.

But Cassian, as always, knows what she’s trying to say.

“Never been in love?” He clarifies, gently.

Jyn flushes, and nods.

Cassian smiles, but not like he’s laughing at her, or making fun of her.

He smiles that small, barely-noticeable smile that crosses his face whenever he looks at Jyn.

“It’s okay,” he says. “The first time I fell in love, it took me by surprise. I thought it was probably the stupidest thing I’d ever done. And that’s _really_ saying something.”

She can’t help but laugh.

“It’s…” He swallows. “It’s a little easier, this second time around. It hasn’t taken me by surprise this time. I’m more… aware. And, like the first time, I’ve fallen very hard, and very quickly.”

“Oh,” Jyn says, and she hopes he can’t see the way she’s shaking.

“I thought you knew. I thought it was obvious.”

“No.”

“Because you don’t think you know me,” Cassian summarizes. “Because you weren’t there to see what I was like, the first time around. Because you’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“Yeah.”

“I see. Okay. Maybe I don’t know _you_ as well as you think I do, Jyn.”

She swallows, and she doesn’t know what to say.

“Look at me, Jyn.”

He waits for Jyn to meet his eyes, and then he speaks:

“I love you.”

“Oh,” Jyn says, again.

“Tara was also very surprised. I guess I’m less obvious than I think I am.”

“Yeah, you’re a _spy_ , you’re supposed to be unreadable,” Jyn says, because she cannot think of anything else to say.

He laughs. “Yes. But I’ve never… I grew up with a family that did not hesitate to say that we loved each other, or be affectionate, and so it’s always been easy for me to know when people love each other, even when they don’t say the actual words. And it’s never been difficult for me to tell anyone that I love them, although I gather that it’s difficult for others. It was difficult for Tara to tell me, and… It might be difficult for you, too. You should know I don’t expect anything. You never have to tell me that you love me, even if you do.”

Jyn opens her mouth, but he’s right about her, again.

She can’t do it. Not yet.

She didn’t grow up with a family that told each other of their love frequently, though she does have a few memories of her parents telling her that they loved her.

But she hasn’t had to tell anyone she’s loved them in over a decade. She hasn’t wanted to.

She settles for the next best thing.

“I will,” Jyn says.

Cassian smiles, his eyes wide and clear.

“Okay,” he says.

She watches as he unloops the old gray scarf from around his neck, turning it over in his hands.

“I’ve had this for six years,” he says. “After she died, I packed up our apartment on Coruscant, and I gave everything we had to the Coruscant Rebellion, except for this scarf. I thought I should keep one thing of hers, just to have. Kay didn’t understand why, but he was kind enough not to bother me about it. He missed her, too.”

“Kay loved her?”

“Yes, I think so,” Cassian says. “Tara didn’t think much of him at first; she thought I was crazy for bringing an Imperial droid back to our home, and trying to reprogram him. But she made an effort. She told me once that she and Kay only got along so well because they both loved me, and so they had an understanding. I don’t think that was entirely true; I think she loved Kay, too. The day she died, she told Kay to follow me, wherever I went, without her. She knew, before I did, that I was going to leave Coruscant after she died.”

“Why _were_ you on Coruscant, anyway?”

Cassian laughs. “Oh, kriff. That’s a much longer story. I will tell it to you, just… When we’re home, okay?”

And Jyn believes him. She believes that he will tell her more of his stories now.

And she likes that he calls Hoth home.

She nods.

Cassian turns back to the scarf in his hands, before reaching into one of his pockets.

She’s startled by the sight of an igniter stick.

“Cassian!” Jyn exclaims, and she moves forward, grabbing his hand. “Cass, you can’t--”

“What? Are you saying you want it?”

She stills, and looks up, into Cassian’s face.

His dark eyes are clear, and patient, and he’s waiting for her answer.

“Don’t…” She sighs. “Not for me. Don’t do this for me. This scarf is all you have left of her, you can’t--”

“I know,” Cassian says. “I just… She loved this scarf, I think because _I_ gave it to her. And she died wearing it. And I think I should’ve burned it with her. But I couldn’t, not then. I wasn’t ready to let go.” He looks down at Jyn. “I’m ready now. Okay?”

Jyn studies his face, searching for hesitation, for uncertainty.

She finds none.

His eyes are so clear, so honest, and he loves her.

“Okay,” she says.

She lets go of his hand, and steps back.

Cassian holds the scarf out, letting it sway gently in the breeze, and then sets the lighter to it.

It ignites instantly, turning red and orange and blue, flames traveling slowly over the thin fabric.

Cassian lets go of it at the last second before it can burn him.

Jyn and Cassian watch as the wind picks up the remains of the scarf, the bits of gray ash, the burned threads, and throws them into the bright blue sky, churning through the hot air, until it disappears into the glare of the huge sun.

Jyn steps closer to Cassian, and takes his hand, leaning on his shoulder.

She hears him whisper something, in what she thinks is Mantooian, but she doesn’t ask what it means.

She looks up, and notices the tears sliding down his face.

She squeezes his hand.

He squeezes back.

They stand there for a long time, looking at the red sun.

“Thanks, Jyn,” Cassian says, quietly.

“Of course,” Jyn says, voice just as soft.

She reaches up, and touches the kyber crystal around her neck.

_Thank you, Taraja,_ she thinks.

When she blinks, she thinks she sees a flash of brilliant blue eyes, of black hair, and feels the weight of a hand on her shoulder.

But when she blinks again, she can see only the red sun, and the orange sand.

“Cass,” Jyn says. “How… How did she die?”

She looks up at Cassian as she asks the question.

She wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to answer it.

But he’s told her he would answer her questions, and he does now.

She couldn’t possibly have prepared herself for this answer.

“My brother killed her.”

Jyn stares up at Cassian, a million new questions on her lips.

Cassian looks down at her, and jerks his head to the ship behind them.

“I’ll tell you about him, too,” he says. “Let’s go to Fest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote by Anne Michaels, from her poem "Memoriam", from the collection THE WEIGHT OF ORANGES/MINER'S POND. I don't know why the quote thing is happening, but it is.
> 
> All of the past events referenced, including Taraja, the scarf, Cassian on Mantooine, K-2SO, "Are you with me/All the way", and Loom, occurred in GRAY AREAS, and have been summarized here. Cassian does speak Mantooian in GRAY AREAS, though he tells Leia he isn't very good at it, whereas here, Jyn thinks he's very good; of course Cassian thinks he can't speak as much as he actually can. Self-doubt has long been his M.O.
> 
> Fest's gray ice climate was Old EU canon, and will be described more next chapter. There is very little canon info about Mantooine. Its climate/terrain was made up by me. Mantooine being hot desert vs. Fest being cold ice tundra made sense, in that it would perhaps explain part of their long history of bickering and war. It is Old EU canon that Fest and Mantooine did have a long history of fighting, though they did eventually merge their Rebellions to form the Atrivis Sector Force, under the umbrella of the Alliance.
> 
> Loom Carplin was the Old EU chief of staff of the Atrivis Sector Force.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She lets him pull her to the spot outside.
> 
> It looks just like any other spot, with snow that crunches under her boots, ice in thick patches on the sidewalk and scaling the wall of the building.
> 
> But the sorrowful look in Cassian’s eyes tells her another story.
> 
> Snow is gathering in his dark hair.
> 
> “My mother died here,” he tells Jyn now.

 

_Childhood dotted with bodies._

 

_Let them go, let them_

_be ghosts._

 

_No, I said,_

_make them stay, make them stone._

 

-Gregory Orr, from “Origin of the Marble Forest”

 

* * *

 

Jyn’s first impression of Fest is the color gray.

It is almost shocking, after the brilliance of the colors of Mantooine, of the natural reds, oranges, yellows, and blues that dominate that planet.

Fest is only gray.

It’s covered in snow, but whereas the snow on Hoth is a gleaming white, the snow of Fest is an inexplicably murky gray. Varying in shade, from a steel gray to a lighter gray, but definitively gray nonetheless. There are tall, sharp mountains, and huge lakes covered in gray ice. Abysses and crevices line the edges of the cities, that suddenly seem to spike in clusters, cities made of black buildings, detracting from the faint gray snow.

There is a coldness here, a coldness that suffocates, that annihilates, and Jyn is shivering the second they break through the atmosphere.

Cassian grimaces.

“Perhaps we should’ve come here, first,” he mutters. “The cold is even more difficult to bear after Mantooine.”

“N-No,” Jyn says, stuttering a little. “It’s fine.”

Cassian looks less than convinced, but doesn’t say anything more.

He watches as Jyn lands the ship at the Port of the capital city of Fulcra.

Jyn pulls on her biggest coat, one she acquired when the Alliance made the move to Hoth, and wraps the white scarf from Mantooine around her neck. She watches as Cassian pulls on his blue parka, and his gloves, his face unreadable.

He takes her hand when they leave the ship.

“This is where I grew up,” Cassian says.

Fulcra is a much bigger city than Mazl. Cassian tells Jyn that Fest is much more populated than Mantooine, but that the people of Fest tend to cluster in a handful of big cities, sharing resources, like shelter and heating, because these two things have incredibly high value on the ice planet.

Unlike Mazl, which had large open air markets, most of Fest’s markets are indoors, and underground.

Jyn stays close to Cassian as they walk through an underground tunnel, past restaurants and stores and shops.

She is struck by how Cassian resembles so many of these people, with their brown skin, dark hair, and the language she can hear on all sides. The people of Fest dress in shades of black and gray mostly, and Cassian tells her that these are the official-unofficial colors of Fest, that it’s just tradition.

“The gray, and the ice,” he says, smirking a little. “It’s in our blood. Seeps out into our clothes.”

She doesn’t know what to make of it, and so she stays quiet.

They climb a stairwell, and reach an uncommon market aboveground, in a large stone building, filled with vendor stalls and trading booths, the air loud with chatter. Jyn takes in the food stands, the stacks of vegetables and fruits available for purchase, the zesty and sharp smells of meats, cooked right out in the open. She recognizes a few of these foods as meals Cassian has made for her back on base at Hoth, and can remember most of the names, and so she opens her mouth to point these out, but stills when she looks up and notices the expression on Cassian’s face.

He’s staring hard at the street outside, at the open archway leading out of the market, where a light snow is falling so softly.

“Cass,” Jyn says, quietly, squeezing his hand. “What is it?”

She lets him pull her to the spot outside.

It looks just like any other spot, with snow that crunches under her boots, ice in thick patches on the sidewalk and scaling the wall of the building.

But the sorrowful look in Cassian’s eyes tells her another story.

Snow is gathering in his dark hair.

“My mother died here,” he tells Jyn now.

Jyn’s breath catches.

She looks at the ground as Cassian speaks.

“It was the day after my tenth birthday,” he says. “We went to the market to buy groceries for the week, just her and me. I normally bought the groceries alone, to help as much as I could, but it was an unusually sunny day, and she was off from work, and so she went with me. She held my hand on the walk here, even though I kept telling her that ten was far too old to still be holding my mother’s hand.” He smiles a little. “I am glad she did not listen to me.”

He sighs.

“We bought everything we needed, and we stepped out here,” he says, gesturing to the street, which is so much quieter than the market inside, as it’s much colder out here, and snow is falling. “There was an Imperial Walker, and a few stormtroopers, but we thought nothing of it. They were so commonplace, they barely registered as a threat. But… There were rebels in the crowd, and I don’t… I don’t know if it was planned, but a firefight broke out. She got caught in the crossfire, shot right in front of my eyes. It killed her instantly. She fell to the ground, but her hand… She’d been reaching for me. She was looking right at me when she died. I could not believe she was dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Cassian,” Jyn whispers.

She can relate, having watched her own mother die in front of her when she was a child. But Lyra’s back had been turned to her, and so she hadn’t seen the full impact of the blaster shot that killed her, and she’d had to flee immediately after. There was no time to linger, to look at her dead mother.

For the first time, she thinks, maybe she got lucky in that aspect.

“I pulled her body back into the market,” Cassian continues, quietly. “I did not want her to get… trampled on. The crowd was panicking, of course, but I got her inside. The building was shaking with blaster fire, and explosions from grenades. I thought I was going to die there, with her. It didn’t seem so bad.”

Jyn nods, because she understands that, too.

For a minute there on Eadu, she’d wanted to die with Galen.

But then Cassian had been there, had grabbed her arm, had refused to leave her.

And she’d gone with him.

“What was her name?” Jyn asks.

“Serafima.”

“Serafima,” Jyn repeats, carefully. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“She was very beautiful,” Cassian says. “She had long black hair, curly, a little like Shara’s. She was also from Sernpidal, like Shara is. My mother was quite tall; I’d only be a few inches taller than her, if she was still alive. I have her cheekbones, and her long fingers, and her eyes.”

Jyn blinks, trying to picture her.

Serafima is easier to picture than Taraja, as Jyn knows Shara, and has Cassian right in front of her.

“I was named after her, too,” Cassian adds.

“What?”

“She took my father’s name, but she was born Serafima Cassiano,” Cassian says. “I only found that out later, years after she died. She’d grown up on Sernpidal, but she fled when she was seventeen; she was a smuggler, and a thief, and she stole a very powerful man’s ship and had to leave her home. I don’t… I don’t know what all she did after that, but eventually she came to Fest, and she met my father, and she had my sister, my brother, and me.”

Jyn’s surprise at this unexpected backstory of Cassian’s mother must show on her face, because Cassian laughs.

“Yeah. I looked like that too, when I found out. I’d had no idea. My mother was… She was very kind to me, and my siblings, and most everyone. But she had this… This authoritative air. No one argued with her. Everyone stepped out of her way, like she was royalty. I only realized later that it was because everyone was a little _frightened_ of her. She had this inherent command, and I think it was something she had to learn when she was a teenager on Sernpidal, working as a criminal, having to convince people to take her seriously.”

“You’re like that, too,” Jyn comments. “People really respect you, instantly. Trust you instinctively.”

She knows she did. And Bodhi, and Chirrut, and Baze, they did too…

“I’m a lot like her,” Cassian murmurs. “More than my father, I think. But it took me years to understand that. I wish I’d known her better.”

Jyn’s heart aches, and she steps closer to Cassian.

He leans down, and presses a kiss to her head.

“Let’s go,” he says, and she follows him out of the market, their feet leaving imprints in the gray snow.

 

* * *

 

They take a transport to the settlements outside of Fulcra, where the Fest Rebellion base is located.

On the way, Cassian tells her about how he started fighting.

“As I told you, I was six,” he says, and Jyn nods, remembering this. “It was after my father died. My sister, she took up his work. She was only six years older than me, but she was very vivacious, and very clever. A born leader. She had soldiers more than twice her age following her, without question.”

“What was her name?”

“Nerezza. And my father was Gabriel.”

This confirms to Jyn that Cassian’s father did found the Insurrectionist Cell that spawned the Fest Rebellion, as Loom Carplin had suspected.

“Gabriel,” Jyn repeats. “And Nerezza.”

“I called her Ezza. I think I found it hard to say her full name, when I was very little, but it stuck.”

Jyn laughs.

Cassian nods, smiling. “You would’ve loved her, and she would’ve loved you, too. She was headstrong, and unafraid. The more reckless and impossible a mission was, the more eager she’d be to attempt it. She would’ve been the first to sign up for Scarif, without a doubt.”

Jyn smiles, somewhat gratified.

“She took me to the base of our father’s Insurrectionist Cell one day,” Cassian continues. “Since my father had died, it’d become a bit of a mess. The Republic--the Empire had not risen yet--saw an opportunity to squash my father’s rebels. Their communications were cut-off, and they were adrift. I volunteered to carry the messages for them, around the city.”

“That was how you started.”

“Yes. I got into petty guerilla warfare pretty quickly, though. Throwing rocks at Imperial Walkers. Tampering with Imperial transports. That kind of thing. Nerezza would’ve preferred that I stick to the message-carrying, but she understood my _need_ to fight. To do something. I only got more involved as time went on.”

“Did your mother know?” Jyn asks.

“Yes,” Cassian says. “Zeferino told her.”

“Zeferino?”

“My brother. He was four years older than me.”

The brother who killed Taraja.

“What was his deal?” Jyn asks, because she thinks this is a kinder question.

Cassian laughs. “My father, my sister, and I all supported the Confederacy of Separatists, and then the Rebellion. But my mother, and my brother, supported the Republic, and then the Empire.”

“ _What?_ ”

Cassian startles a little at Jyn’s loud exclamation, and a few other passengers in the transport turn to stare. Jyn flushes, sinking lower in her seat.

“I told you, my father left my mother when I was a child,” Cassian says, speaking softly. “He left because my parents could no longer accept that they supported opposing sides. And my mother did not approve of my father getting involved with the Separatists; she thought it was dangerous, and so she moved my siblings and me to a house out of the city, on the outskirts. I was very young, only four or five, I think. My father did not fight her on this move, as far as I’m aware. He agreed that we’d be safer. Our safety was about the only thing my parents agreed on.”

“Kriff,” Jyn breathes.

She doesn’t remember much of her parents, but she remembers the sad look she’d catch on her mother’s face when they lived on Coruscant, when her father worked for the Empire, in its early days.

But the war had not driven them apart.

Not like that, anyway.

“I think…” Cassian frowns. “I’ve thought a lot about my mother, and why she, a criminal, would’ve supported the Empire. I think she did because she thought it was a safer option. I think she thought her family were more likely to survive under Imperial rule. And she was probably right. If my father hadn’t fought, if Ezza hadn’t fought, if I… They might still be alive. I think she chose the option she thought was better for our long-term survival. I like to think she would’ve changed her mind, if she could’ve lived to see what the Empire has become. I am not sure she would, but… I like to think so.

“Zeferino, however…” And Cassian’s face twists a little, and Jyn can see the white hot fury creeping in at the corners of his eyes. “He was an Imperialist. Through and through. When I was a child, he was very kind to me, very loving. But he and Ezza… They fought so much. They tried to hide it from me, but I heard them _screaming_ at each other. I didn’t understand why they fought, for a long time. I didn’t understand Zeferino very much at all. He knew it, but… He knew that I tried to understand him, and I think he was very grateful for that.”

Jyn doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to ease the dull ache in Cassian’s voice, the pain and bitterness in his eyes.

She’s spared from trying to come up with something by the transport stopping.

 

* * *

 

The Fest Rebellion base is set into a huge dark mountain, is basically built directly into the rough stone and solid rock. It is very cold inside, but crowded, filled with people chattering in Basic and Festian, and the air is thick with the rumblings of droids, the hum of transports, and the noises of people sparring, and training.

It looks very much like the Alliance base on Hoth, but more condensed.

“You grew up here?” Jyn asks, almost having to yell over the noise.

“No,” Cassian says. “The first base was back in Fulcra. But it was destroyed by the Empire, thirteen years ago, and so Travia moved the Rebellion out of the city, up the mountains. Safer, I think.”

Jyn nods, looking around the base, following Cassian through the halls.

She’s startled by a loud squeal, and a blur of blue that throws itself at Cassian.

Jyn turns, and sees that a small Twi’lek woman, with blue tentacles hanging down her shoulders, has all but tackled Cassian in an enthusiastic hug. Cassian is smiling widely, and laughing a little, and returning the hug, almost picking the woman off the ground.

“Cassi! Cassi!” The woman is yelling, and it takes Jyn a moment to realize she’s speaking to Cassian.

“Hello, Viri,” Cassian says, taking a step back.

“It is so good to see you, Cassi,” Viri says, beaming. “Travia said you were coming. You do not visit us very often.”

“Sorry,” Cassian says, shrugging.

Viri’s eyes slide to the side, finally spotting Jyn behind Cassian. She cocks her head, her grin turning somewhat devious.

“Cassi? Who is this?”

“Viri, this is Sergeant Jyn Erso, of Alliance Special Forces,” Cassian says, beckoning Jyn over. “Jyn, this is Lieutenant Viri Hazam, of the Fest Rebellion. She’s been with the Fest Rebellion for thirteen years now.”

“Hello,” Jyn says, shaking Viri’s hand, and wondering exactly how Cassian knows this woman.

Cassian must gather as much, for he adds, “Viri was Nerezza’s girlfriend.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jyn breathes.

“Cassi’s told you about Ezza?” Viri asks, eyebrows rising. She looks back at Cassian, smirking fully now. “A _Sergeant_. _Right_.”

“She _is_ a Sergeant--”

“Don’t be funny--”

“--And also my girlfriend.”

“ _Ooh!_ ” Viri exclaims, clapping her hands together, causing everyone in the immediate vicinity to stare, causing Cassian’s face to flush. “Ooh, I have never met a girlfriend of Cassi’s--”

“You make it sound like I’ve had so many--”

“This is _wonderful_ , _hello_ ,” Viri says, elbowing Cassian aside, and Jyn is unable to stop her from hugging her tightly. Jyn stares at Cassian from over Viri’s shoulder, and he shrugs, in a _Just let it happen_ kind of way.

Viri steps back, looking at Jyn’s face, brown eyes darting all over.

“She’s very pretty, Cassi. You’re very pretty, Jyn.”

“Thank you,” Jyn says, still taken aback by this turn of events.

Cassian rescues her, wrapping a hand around her wrist.

“We’ll talk to you later, Viri,” he says, quickly. “We have to see Travia first.”

“I will make you both dinner,” Viri announces. To Jyn, she says, “Cassi and Ezza always liked my cooking. Perhaps you will too?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jyn hears herself say, feeling very overwhelmed.

“Good,” Viri says. “I will see you later, then!”

Cassian tugs Jyn away, as she offers her own, feebler, farewell.

“Sorry,” he mutters, guiding Jyn down a corridor with him. “We never see each other, so Viri gets very excited to see me. She does like me, but I think I also remind her of Nerezza. And she’s never met _any_ girlfriend of mine before, because I’ve only ever had two, so--”

“ _Cassi?_ ”

Cassian winces. “Yeah. My family used to call me that. Ezza would’ve called me that in front of Viri, and so I think Viri assumed it was a nickname everyone used. I was thirteen at the time, and I think Nerezza enjoyed the indignant look on my face too much to ever correct Viri. It is far too late to correct her now, and I’m pretty sure she’d just ignore it.”

“Wait, so, can I--”

“Oh, kriff, please no.”

Jyn laughs.

She follows Cassian into a large conference room, one that looks like the one back on the Alliance base, filled with maps and charts and the static mutterings of Imperial frequencies.

Everyone in the room seems to orient themselves around a woman with gray hair and sand-colored skin, sitting in a repulsor-chair at the center of the room. She looks up, and Jyn sees that she has steely, teardrop-shaped brown eyes, and tense lines around her mouth.

This is a woman not to be trifled with, a woman to be respected.

Jyn knows this must be Travia Chan.

But the woman’s face unexpectedly softens, the lines smoothing out, as she smiles.

“Andor,” she calls, warmly, and Jyn looks up in time to catch Cassian’s answering smile.

“Travia,” he returns, and he goes to the woman, bending down to hug her.

Jyn stares.

She’s heard of Travia Chan around the Alliance base. She is the leader of the near-legendary Atrivis Sector Force, a group that has been slowly but surely cutting away at Imperial power in this part of the Outer Rim, a group known for brilliance, and resilience. Travia Chan herself is said to be incredibly intimidating, intelligent, and _cold_. She is nicknamed “the Icewoman”, is known for not being warm, or friendly, for insisting on excellence and not accepting anything less.

Yet here she is, _hugging_ Cassian, and _smiling_ at him, and he calls her by her first name.

Jyn gathers herself together, in time to see Cassian nod at her.

“Jyn,” he says. “This is Travia Chan, Commander-in-Chief of the Atrivis Sector Force. Travia, this is Sergeant Jyn Erso, of Alliance Special Forces.”

Travia shakes Jyn’s hand, her grip sure and bruising.

“It is an honor to meet you, Sergeant Erso,” she says, voice sharp, eyes intense. “I read the report of your mission to Scarif. Incredibly dangerous, but so necessary. Thank you for your service to our cause.”

“C-Course,” Jyn says, stuttering a little at the praise from this widely-respected military leader.

“Captain Andor--wait, you can’t _still_ be a Captain.”

“I am,” Cassian says.

Travia stares.

“What kind of joke is--”

“I refused promotion,” Cassian says quickly, mouth quirking at the edges.

Jyn lets her hand rest on his back for a moment, where Travia can’t see.

Jyn knows Cassian refused promotion because he wanted to leave Draven’s off-the-books black operations unit. In the deal he made with Draven and Mothma, he got to stay in Alliance Intelligence, but work largely as a recruiter and spy; no black ops missions, which Jyn understands, vaguely, was most of his work before.

Before Scarif. Before Eadu. Before Jedha.

Before her.

Travia frowns, eyes tightening.

“I hope you had a good reason, Andor,” she mutters. “The Alliance needs more leaders like you. You’ve been a Captain for a long time.”

“I have,” Cassian says. In an aside to Jyn, he says, “Travia gave me the rank, five years ago, when I came back to the Fest Rebellion.”

From Coruscant. After Taraja died.

Jyn nods, adding this to her mental timeline of Cassian’s history.

“You’re still welcome to come back,” Travia says. “Anytime. Captain or Major.”

“I know, Travia.”

“Hmpf.” Travia looks at Cassian for a moment, before shrugging. “Fine. Come into my office. I can’t wait to hear what kind of nonsense the Alliance is up to these days.”

Jyn can’t quite smother her laughter. She blushes, looking worriedly at Travia Chan, hoping the woman is not offended.

She only catches a hint of a wink from Travia.

Jyn is starting to understand Festians more.

 

* * *

 

Travia Chan is just as intimidating and brilliant as Jyn had been told she was. She asks complicated questions, demands detailed answers, and knows more about the Empire and how it works than just about anyone Jyn has ever met.

Save for Cassian.

Cassian, who answers Travia’s every question with thought and care, and expertise. Cassian, who understands her shorthand, who remembers every event she’s referring to, who has his own great knowledge of complex Imperial movements.

Travia smiles so nicely at Cassian, has such a fond look in her eyes when she looks at him, and Jyn likes her.

They speak in Basic, though Jyn understands this is for her sake.

Travia doesn’t quite _look_ Festian, not like Cassian does, but she talks of Fest in a similar tone to Cassian’s, and is as comfortable without her jacket as Cassian is without his, even as Jyn shivers under her many layers.

 _Crawling out of the ice_ , Jyn thinks, remembering the harsh words from the Mantooian man.

She knows now that it’s the kind of thing Travia Chan and Cassian Andor think of as a compliment.

It shows they are resilient, that they are survivors, that they look adversity in the face, and fight back. It shows they are unafraid, that they can live where no one else can, that they are fierce, and strong.

They are admirable.

Jyn has long thought of Cassian as someone to be commended, to be respected, but for the first time she truly grasps how remarkable he is.

Her admiration only increases when they leave Travia’s office, and are greeted by a swarm of children.

Children, ranging widely in age, from young ones with missing teeth, to older ones on the cusp of adulthood. Children who beam at Cassian, who hug him around the waist, who squeeze his hands, who call his name, _Cassian, Cass, Captain Andor_. Children, with brown skin and dark hair, bony elbows, knobbly knees, skinny arms, and big eyes. Children, who look at Cassian with such adoration, such admiration, that it takes Jyn’s breath away.

She stands back, and watches as Cassian greets them.

He knows all of their names.

They all speak in Festian, and so the topic of conversation is lost to her.

It is enough to see Cassian’s wide smile, the open care in his eyes, his loud laughter.

He is happier here, now, than she thinks she has ever seen him.

She feels a hand on her elbow, and she turns, to see Travia.

“It was Scarif, right?” Travia asks.

“That was where I met him, yes,” Jyn says, because she thinks this is what Travia is asking.

Travia nods.

“When I read the report,” she says, “And read how injured he’d been, how dangerous the mission was… I’d hoped it would make him want to come back to Fest. That maybe he’d finally had enough.” She smirks. “Ridiculous. But an old woman can hope.”

 _Hope_.

Jyn gets that.

But she can’t stop staring at Cassian’s grin.

“Why did he leave Fest?” She asks. “He’s… He looks so happy?”

“He is,” Travia says. “He told me once, that he’s happy here. But Fest, it… It’s never been enough for him. He’s always wanted to fight, to really hurt the Empire, ever since he was a child. We are too far away, out here in our corner of the Outer Rim. He would never be satisfied among us. He’d rather hang himself for the Alliance, as long as he gets to take some of the Empire down with him.”

“That’s so--”

Jyn cuts herself off, biting her tongue.

He’s so _happy_ here.

Travia nods.

“I used to think Cassian Andor was a bit of a walking tragedy,” she says. “Never content with himself, never letting himself be happy. But I see, now… That it’s just who he is. And maybe that is still a kind of tragedy. I don’t know. What I know for sure is that he’s honest with himself. And I can respect his choices.” She looks at Jyn. “I am very proud of him. I hope he knows that.”

“He does,” Jyn says, and this is the truth.

“He’s done a lot of good work. For the Alliance, but especially for Fest.” Travia nods at the crowd of children. “When he was with us again, for about a year and a half, five years ago, he mentored every child he could find. He taught them to fight, how to defend themselves. How to survive. How to cope with loss. It was a priceless gift, and selfless, and it gave this Rebellion a future. It guaranteed us all a legacy. I could not ask for anything more.”

Jyn swallows hard, nodding.

“Though I also never hesitate to ask him to come back to Fest, for good.”

Jyn laughs, and Travia cracks a smile.

“Eh,” Travia says. “Maybe he’ll come back someday.”

From over the heads of the children surrounding him, Cassian catches Jyn’s eye.

Her smile matches his.

 

* * *

 

Viri makes them Rycrit stew, a dish from her home planet of Ryloth.

The stew is an odd pale green color, and Jyn has no idea what exactly is in it, but she watches Cassian eat without hesitation, and she follows his lead.

It’s good, though it tastes nothing like anything she’s ever had before.

“Does Cassi cook for you, Jyn?” Viri asks.

“Yes,” Jyn says, and this is the truth.

“He’s very good, much better than Ezza was.”

Cassian laughs. “That’s not high praise, Viri.” To Jyn, he clarifies, “My sister was the worst cook I’ve ever seen. She had no patience for it.”

“And she had a little brother who was always willing to cook for her,” Viri says.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“I wish I could’ve known her,” Jyn says, softly.

“She would have been very rough with you, at first,” Viri says. “She was very protective of Cassi.”

“That’s… probably true,” Cassian admits. “After our mother died, Nerezza formally adopted Zeferino, and me.”

Jyn stares. “She couldn’t have been old enough?”

“She was sixteen, and that’s technically of age here on Fest. And the war had been tearing families apart for years at that point, so I think the courts were generous; they didn’t want to add any more children to the orphanages. Nerezza told me she would’ve stolen us out of the orphanage if the city had tried to take us, anyway.”

Viri laughs, and nods.

“Where did you go after your mother died?” Jyn asks.

“Ezza and I moved into the Fest Rebellion base, full time,” Cassian says. “This was back when the base was still in Fulcra. And Zeferino… Zeferino enlisted in the Imperial Military. It was something he’d wanted to do for a while, and with our mother gone, the timing was right. He shipped out to Coruscant two weeks after our mother died. He was fourteen.”

“Oh,” Jyn breathes.

Viri’s smile has disappeared.

“He was not a good boy,” she says, scowling.

“Viri, you never met him,” Cassian says.

“No, but Ezza told me of him,” Viri says, and Jyn watches Cassian, sees the way his eyebrows draw together, as he frowns. “He was very angry. He never liked Ezza.”

“They didn’t get along well, but I don’t think--”

“Cassian,” Viri says, voice suddenly sharp. “I think there were things Nerezza never told you about your brother. Things you could never know about him, since you were so young when he ran off to Coruscant.”

“He came back to Fest, Viri.”

Both Viri and Jyn stare at Cassian.

“ _What?_ ” Viri exclaims. “When?”

“The day Nerezza died,” Cassian says, voice soft.

Viri’s blue skin turns ashen, horror creeping over her features.

“Then he… Was he…?”

“I don’t know,” Cassian says.

Jyn looks between the two of them, buzzing with questions.

She’s not sure she wants to know the answers, however.

“You never told me,” Viri says, and there is hurt in her voice.

“I didn’t…” Cassian sighs. “I didn’t want to hurt you more. I didn’t know for sure, and I… I didn’t think it really mattered. She was dead, either way, no matter who killed her.”

Viri nods, and Jyn sees tears gathering in her brown eyes.

Cassian gets up and goes over to Viri, crouching on the floor by her chair.

He takes her hand.

Viri begins to cry, and Cassian pulls her into his arms, resting his chin on her head.

He looks at Jyn, and her heart breaks at the devastated loss in his eyes.

Jyn swallows her own tears.

 

* * *

 

Jyn is, technically, given her own room in the Fest Rebellion base for the night.

But both she and Cassian ignore this, and go to the room he’s been assigned to, and curl up in the single-person cot together, entwining their legs, holding hands, and breathing in sync.

Cassian presses his forehead to hers, and closes his eyes.

Jyn watches him.

“I was thirteen,” he says. “Nerezza was making dinner. She and Viri were dating, and Viri was trying to teach her to cook, and so Nerezza decided to try to impress her, by making a Ryloth dish. But she needed someone to test the food on beforehand, to make sure it was edible, and so she chose me to be the sacrificial ewok. She reasoned that I would still love her even if she poisoned me.”

Jyn smiles, but doesn’t interrupt.

“It was good. She made it correctly. But we didn’t get to eat all of it, because the Empire started dropping bombs on the base.”

Cassian is holding Jyn’s hand so tightly, she thinks he might leave a bruise.

“Nerezza had her own team to lead, so she left me in the hangar. She hugged me, and she told me that she loved me. She said, ‘ _Be brave, Cassi._ ’ It was the last thing she ever said to me.

“I was evacuating patients from the medical wing. The bombs were still falling, and one hit the building. I was thrown into a wall. When the dust cleared, I saw that the roof had caved in. I managed to crawl out of the wreckage; I was still small enough to get through tight spaces. I stood up, and I looked around, and I saw that the base was almost destroyed. The bombs were still dropping, so I hid in a snowbank. I could feel the ground shaking around me, could feel the ice under me cracking. It took everything I had not to scream, I was so scared.”

Jyn can’t even imagine it. She’s been near bombings before, has orchestrated a few herself, but she’s never experienced the kind of air raid that Cassian is describing. She can hear the old terror in his voice, even now.

“Eventually, the bombs stopped,” he whispers. “It was so quiet. And I crawled out of the snow. I watched an Imperial shuttle land, and saw stormtroopers, and a few Imperial officers disembark. They went into the only part of the base left standing. The screaming started again, and I ran into the building. A man in a gray Imperial officer’s uniform started firing at me, so I ran into a corridor. I remember the red lights, the alarms, were still flashing, and I turned, and I raised my blaster, and I looked at the officer. And it was Zeferino.”

“Cass,” Jyn gasps, aghast.

“He was shocked to see me, as I was to see him. We hadn’t seen each other in three years. He’d thought I was dead. I was… I was so _angry_ at him. To know that the Empire, _his Empire,_ was bombing Fest. Our home, the place where Mama and Papa had died. We yelled, _screamed_ , at each other. I thought I was going to kill him, and he… He said he would not kill me. Because I was his little brother. Because he loved me, still. Because he thought I had good to do, though not for the Rebellion. And I told him that he didn’t know me anymore.”

Cassian opens his eyes.

“And do you know what he said to me, Jyn?”

“What?”

“He said, ‘ _Are you no longer good, Cassi?_ ’” Cassian laughs a little, but it’s hopeless. “It shook me. Because he’d always had such… such faith in me. To be good. He used to always tell me to be good, to stay out of trouble. And there he was, in that gray Imperial officer’s uniform, making me feel like I was the bad one. I raised my blaster, but he was quicker. He wasn’t going to kill me, and he did not try to, but he did shoot me.”

“ _Cass_.”

Cassian raises his left hand, and taps his right shoulder, covered by his shirt. “I know you’ve wondered. That’s where that scar is from. My brother shot me when I was thirteen.”

“Cass, I…” Jyn swallows, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You, being here… It’s enough.”

He adjusts the blanket around her shoulders to make sure she’s warm, and it is so sweet, and so kind, that it steals Jyn’s breath away.

“He left, with the shuttle,” Cassian continues. “I walked out into the hangar, all that was left standing of the base. There were… There were survivors, but we were all in such shock. Travia was there, I remember her, I remember being impressed that she did not evacuate. And Wada walked up to me.”

“Who’s Wada?”

Cassian smiles. “He was a Rodian, and one of my oldest and dearest friends. He taught me how to fly, how to fight. He followed me from Fest to Coruscant. He was… He was like a father to me, in a lot of ways, more than Gabriel ever was. I loved him very much.”

Jyn nods.

“Wada came up to me, and he took my hand. I looked at him, and I knew. He didn’t have to say it. I just knew.

“He told me she was outside,” Cassian says, and his voice breaks, and Jyn presses as closely as she can, holding his hand, and wrapping her other arm around him, touching his hair. “It had started to snow, but I went out, and she was there. Nerezza. Exactly where he said she’d be. She’d been shot in the head, and there was blood on the ice around her. She looked like she had a halo. Her eyes were still open. I knelt next to her, and I held her hand, and I wished… I wished the ice would open up, and drown us both. I wanted to die with her, so badly.”

He begins to cry then.

Jyn has never seen Cassian cry like this before.

He sobs, and she presses herself against him, as if she could crawl into him, as if she could hold him through it all, protect him from the pain of the memory, and how she wishes she could.

“I’m so sorry, Cassian,” she whispers. “I am so sorry.”

“I don’t know who killed her,” Cassian says, and his voice is rough, and shaking, and Jyn can feel his tears on her neck. “If it was an Imperial officer, or a stormtrooper. It might have been Zeferino. It might have been _Zeferino_.”

Jyn nods, and runs her fingers through his thin hair.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cassian murmurs. “She died. There was nothing I could do. But I… Kriff, I hope it wasn’t him.”

“Me too.”

“He killed Tara, and that was…” Cassian exhales, shakily. “Not Ezza, too.”

He squeezes Jyn’s hand.

“I still have dreams, about him. Nightmares. Lately, he’s killed you in them. I watch, and like with Tara, I can’t stop him.”

“Cass,” Jyn whispers.

“I know it isn’t possible. I know it isn’t going to happen.” Cassian looks up at her, and she stills at the haunted look in his eyes.

“I know, because he’s dead,” Cassian says, so quietly that Jyn can barely hear him.

His next words make her lose her voice:

“And I know he’s dead, because I’m the one who killed him.”

Jyn’s mouth opens, but she can’t find the words.

She thinks maybe she shouldn’t be surprised, that she could’ve guessed this, knowing that Zeferino killed Taraja, knowing that Cassian speaks of Zeferino with such venom in his voice.

That venom is all gone now; despair is all that remains.

“No one knows,” Cassian whispers. “No one. And you can’t tell _anyone_. Especially here. Kin killing… It is the worst possible crime on Fest, to Festians. Irredeemable. Primeval. A murder with no possible vengeance. A defeat of legacy. If anyone here knew that I killed my own brother… They would _despise_ me. Shun me. You cannot tell anyone. Promise me, Jyn.”

“I promise,” Jyn says, finding her voice to make this all-important promise.

She will keep it.

“Thank you,” Cassian breathes. “I will tell you what happened, exactly; later. But not here. Not on Fest.”

“Okay,” Jyn says, nodding.

She presses a kiss to his forehead, and she feels his arms tighten around her waist.

They fall asleep, just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like "Origin of the Marble Forest" was originally published in Gregory Orr's CITY OF SALT but I am not entirely sure.
> 
> There is a lot of angst in this story, but the ending is hella sweet/light. like the sweetest/lightest thing I've ever written.
> 
> Travia Chan was the Old EU head of the Atrivis Sector Force, and appears a lot in GRAY AREAS. The descriptions of Fest are based off Old EU info. Everything about Serafima, Nerezza, and Zeferino was made up by me; Cassian's father did die, in canon, in a bombing at Carida, though that is all we know about him.
> 
> All of the past events described in this story did take place in GRAY AREAS, though this story will include new stuff too. This story will be about 50k, I think. I'm almost done writing/editing the thing, so I will probably post more frequently, about every day.
> 
> please tell me what you think, I am very curious; if you've read GRAY AREAS, I'm interested in how these stories are coming across in someone else's perspective, and if you have not read GRAY AREAS, I'd love to hear your thoughts on these new stories!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you,” he reminds her. “And they’d love you, too. Definitely.” She can feel him smiling against her head, as he turns to the graves. “Isn’t that right?”
> 
> There is no answer, only the cold wind.
> 
> But Cassian nods, and whispers to Jyn, “They said yes, they do.”
> 
> Jyn wraps her arm around his waist, leaning close.
> 
> “You can hear them?”

 

_If the door were open, I’ll listen to creek water_

_And think I heard voices from long ago,_

_distinct, and calling me home._

 

_The past becomes such a mirror--we’re in it, and then we’re not._

  
-Charles Wright, from “On the Night of the First Snow, Thinking About Tennessee”

 

* * *

 

Cassian is quiet the next day.

He’s quiet as they say goodbye to Viri, who hugs them both tightly, who kisses their cheeks, who makes Cassian promise to write to her more, who makes Jyn promise to make him write to her more.

He’s quiet as they say goodbye to Travia Chan, who shakes their hands, and tells Cassian, for what Jyn is sure is probably the hundredth or so time, that Fest is always there for him, will always be his home, whenever he needs it.

“Loom and I aren’t getting any younger,” she says. “We could use some younger blood to help us run the Atrivis Sector Force, Cassian.”

Cassian smiles, but it’s sad.

“I can’t, Travia. But thank you for the offer.”

“I’ll never not make it,” Travia says. She nods at Jyn. “Best of luck to you, Sergeant Erso.”

“And to you, Commander Chan,” Jyn says.

The children all rush out to see them off, speaking in Festian, voices excited, but a little forlorn, and Jyn is startled to hear more than one of them say the name _Kay_ , and _Kay-Tu_.

Cassian shoots her a sharp look, and so she doesn’t say anything.

He waits until they’re on the transport back to Fulcra before he speaks.

“Kay was with me, the last time I was here,” he tells her. “Five, four, years ago, when I came back after cremating Taraja on Mantooine. I was twenty-one, and Kay and I stayed with the Fest Rebellion for about a year and a half, leaving when I was twenty-two. He was… He was pretty good. There are no KX-series Imperial security droids on Fest; they’d have no purpose here, and the children thought he was fascinating. He didn’t like them at first, thought they were annoying, but he came around. By the time we left, he was their favorite. They loved him.”

“You didn’t tell them he died?” Jyn asks.

Cassian shakes his head. “No. A few of them were asking me where Kay is, and I… I told them he wasn’t with me right now. Which is, you know… Not exactly a lie.”

Jyn grimaces, though she can’t disagree.

“I don’t want to make them sad,” Cassian murmurs. “They’re children, and they’re fighting a war. They’ll be sad soon enough. I don’t want to add to their grief.”

And she can understand that.

She takes his hand in hers, and twines their fingers together.

“Where next?”

“You’re not sick of me talking about myself yet?” Cassian asks, eyebrows raised. His tone is joking, but his face isn’t.

“Never,” Jyn says, and it’s a promise.

Cassian seems to infer as much from her voice. He nods.

“My mother’s house,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Serafima Andor’s old house is, as Cassian said, on the outskirts of Fulcra. It takes Jyn and Cassian thirty minutes to walk to it from the transport depot in the city.

They walk at a leisurely pace, holding hands, and Jyn thinks Cassian is more relaxed here on Fest than she’s ever seen him. He looks at the gray sky, impervious to the thin snowflakes settling in his dark hair and on his shoulders, his boots stepping confidently through the snow and ice that Jyn nervously wades through.

He does fit in here, in a way, she thinks.

They stop in front of a small house.

It’s black, and sticks out from the light snow around it. Jyn looks at it, sees thick windows and a heavy door, sees a hint of a fire burning inside, soft smoke rising from the short chimney. The house is more on its own than most buildings she’s seen in Fulcra so far, and she understands how Serafima saw this house and thought it safe, that her children could play here, and live.

“We moved here when I was… four, or five,” Cassian says, looking at the house with Jyn. “And we moved out when she died, when I was ten. I don’t know who lives here now. But I grew up in that house. I shared a room with Zeferino, and I often hid in the attic, when Ezza and Zef would have their fights. Nerezza and I would read books in front of the fire, and Zeferino and I would cook in the kitchen.”

Jyn looks up at him. “Did Zeferino…?”

“Teach me how to cook? Yes. Don’t tell Viri, though; I think she’d refuse to eat anything I make, after that.” Cassian shrugs. “He started teaching me at first, I think, to distract me from our parents arguing in the sitting room, back when we lived in the city. But I was interested in it, and so it became a thing we did, to bond. He’d teach me other things, too; sewing, and first aid. It took me years to realize he’d been giving me survival lessons. I’ve tried to pass them on to the children in the Rebellion.”

Jyn nods, biting her lip.

“Nerezza taught me how to ice-board. It’s a popular activity on Fest. And she’d take me climbing with her, around the cliffs on the other side of Fulcra, for fun. Zeferino came with us more often when he was younger. He was never as adventurous, or reckless as us, and so he’d climb more slowly, trailing us.” Cassian has a torn look on his face. “I thought he was just slow. But I finally realized why he did that, when I was climbing after you on the data tower on Scarif. I realized that he always loitered behind in case we fell. He could try to catch us. I was ready to try to catch you if you fell, then, too.”

Jyn nods. She doesn’t want to think about Scarif, about how Cassian did fall, and how there was no one to catch him then.

Cassian points out the side of the house, what looks to be the garage.

“See that?”

“Yeah?”

“That was my mother’s pottery studio.”

And Jyn remembers Kes and Shara’s words, about pottery, and Sernpidal.

“Your mother was a potter,” Jyn says now, smiling.

Cassian smiles too.

“Yes,” he says. “She was very good. Pottery is a pastime on Sernpidal; Shara can tell you more about it than I could. But it was a talent my mother honed there, and brought with her to Fest. Her pieces were very admired here, considered exotic. She offered to teach my siblings and me how to make pottery, but we always turned her down. I didn’t see the appeal. And her studio was always so cold, because it was in what was supposed to be a garage. Sometimes after I came home from school, she’d call me in there to talk to her, and I’d watch her work. She’d wear layers, so I could only see her hands, and her eyes. We looked very alike then.”

“Why does Shara keep asking you about pottery, if you don’t know how to make it?”

Cassian laughs. “Because Shara has a potter’s wheel. She brought it to base from Sernpidal. She said she’d gotten it because pottery reminds her of Sernpidal, and that could be true, but I think it was also to cheer me up.” He sighs. “She got it shortly after the Alliance moved to Yavin 4. We’d had to abandon our first base, on Dantooine.”

He looks at Jyn. “You wondered why I don’t have any personal items. It’s because I lost everything on Dantooine. The Empire found the base there, and the Alliance evacuated very quickly. I was off-planet, and so all my things were left behind: a Rodian pistol from Wada; an old scarf of Nerezza’s; a dagger that had belonged to my father; a piece of my mother’s pottery; a hologram of Wada and me; a hologram of my mother.”

“Oh, kriff, Cassian, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was inevitable, I think. I’ve always moved around a lot. The only things from the dead I had left after that were Taraja’s scarf, and this parka.” He gestures to his blue parka. “It was Wada’s. But it’s been mine for longer than it was ever his, so I tend to forget that. And I only ever saw him wearing it on Fest, so.” He shrugs. “Anyway, Shara got the potter’s wheel, and she made me practice making pottery with her. She knew I was upset about losing the hologram of my mother, though she did not know my mother had been a potter. It was a very sweet gesture, and I am grateful to Shara for making that effort.”

“Are you any good?”

“Kriff, no. I’m terrible. Shara is too. It’s damaging to both of our egos. I keep trying to get her to let Kes give pottery making a shot, but she refuses; I think she’s worried Kes will be better, even though he doesn’t have that so-called ‘ _Sernpidal touch._ ’”

Jyn laughs, and Cassian grins.

“Next time Shara asks me, I’ll bring you, and you can outshine us both.”

“Doesn’t sound so hard,” Jyn says, and Cassian snorts, bumping her shoulder with his.

He pulls her away from the little house.

They walk further out, to open space, gray tundra as far as the eye can see, and Jyn has no idea where they’re headed, as she can see no hint of civilization, nothing but distant mountains, and the only sounds coming from their feet sinking into the snow, and the hiss of the bitterly cold wind.

She narrows her eyes against the frost, and looks at the ground ahead of them, and thinks she can see three thin markers, rising like stone flowers in a gray garden.

 _Oh_.

They stop in front of the graves.

Jyn reads the names silently.

Gabriel Andor. Serafima Andor. Nerezza Andor.

Three markers, and miles of empty gray space all around.

“Hi, Papa,” Cassian says, softly. “Hi, Mama. Hi, Ezza. This is Jyn.”

Jyn swallows. “Hello.”

They get no response.

They weren’t really expecting one.

Cassian’s hand is tight in hers.

“I told you about how my father died,” Cassian says. “Blown to pieces on Carida. My mother had to basically fight the Republic to send his ashes to us. She was adamant; she was strong. But she cried. It was the first and only time I ever saw her cry. Still, her efforts were rewarded. They sent him back to us in a gray steel box, and we buried him here, because we bury our dead on Fest.”

He looks at Jyn.

“Please remember that, okay? I don’t… If you… If it--”

“I know,” Jyn murmurs.

She won’t make him say it.

She squeezes his hand, and she promises him that if he dies before her, she’ll bury him here.

Next to his parents. Next to his sister.

“Thank you,” Cassian murmurs.

Jyn never got to bury her parents. She doesn’t know what happened to her mother’s body, after she was killed in their yard on Lah’mu, nor what happened to her father’s body, after he was killed on Eadu. There are no gravestones in the galaxy for the Ersos, and for a moment, she envies Cassian for having this kind of closure, though she does not think his pain, or his losses, are any less substantial than hers.

“We buried our mother next to him,” Cassian continues. “Even if she and my father had been estranged when he died, it… It seemed right. To keep them close. And then I buried Ezza here, too, when she died, three years after my mother. I dug her grave myself, alone. When I was done, I said goodbye to them all. And then I left Fest.”

Cassian shakes his head, looking up at the gray sky.

“They were all dead, and there was nothing left for me here, or so I thought,” he murmurs. “I was thirteen, and heartbroken, and furious. I wanted to crush the Empire with my bare hands, for all it had taken from me. And I couldn’t do that here. It wasn’t where the Empire really was. I decided to go to Coruscant, to the heart of the Empire, and attack it there. And Wada, he decided to go with me. He said he’d never liked it here, under all the gray. Said he didn’t have a reason to stick around without me. We took his ship; I piloted. I thought I’d never come back. I thought I’d never _want_ to come back.”

“But you did,” Jyn summarizes.

“Wada told me I would mourn leaving Fest,” Cassian says, smiling. “I thought he was crazy. But he was right. It took me years, but I did miss Fest. After Wada died, and then Taraja, three years later, I was… I became… Well. I don’t know. I didn’t know who I was anymore. So I came back here. And it… It was like I was _me_ again. I was lost, I was grieving, and this place, this planet… It brought me back. My personality, my idealism, my hope. I remembered who I was, who I wanted to be. Not a ghost anymore, but the son of Gabriel and Serafima, and the brother of Nerezza. Someone they could be proud of. Someone good.”

“You’re good, Cassian,” Jyn whispers.

Cassian sighs. “I try to be. That’s the truth of it. I try. I knew, when I left Fest again, that I was sacrificing a lot of myself. That I was choosing the cause over my conscience, my morality, my sense of goodness. I decided it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I left Fest when I was twenty-two, and the years that followed… I lost a lot of _me_. I lost myself, piece by piece. I became an assassin, a murderer, a thief, a torturer. The worst of humanity. Unforgivable. Hopeless.”

He looks down at Jyn. “And then you came along. And you made me want to try. It was something I didn’t think I could do, or have, for a long time. You made me want to try to be good. You made me remember that I _could_ be. That was why I didn’t kill your father on Eadu. Why I went with you to Scarif. I told you that rebellions are built on hope, and I meant it. I’ve always been hopeful that we can end the Empire, but I had no hope for _myself_. But you made me recover that hope for myself that I’d lost so long ago. I am very grateful for that, Jyn. Very grateful for _you_.”

Jyn can only stare up at him, her heart in her throat, her body oddly light.

Cassian wraps an arm around her, and presses a kiss to her head.

“I love you,” he reminds her. “And they’d love you, too. Definitely.” She can feel him smiling against her head, as he turns to the graves. “Isn’t that right?”

There is no answer, only the cold wind.

But Cassian nods, and whispers to Jyn, “They said yes, they do.”

Jyn wraps her arm around his waist, leaning close.

“You can hear them?”

She isn’t being mean, or teasing; she’s being serious.

She grips her kyber crystal in her hand.

 _Trust the Force_ , whispers Lyra.

“All the time,” Cassian says. “Ezza and Tara climbed the data tower on Scarif with me. My father told me to be good, and my mother told me she was proud of me, on Eadu. I know they’re dead, Jyn. But I can still hear them.”

“I didn’t know you were so spiritual.”

“I didn’t used to be,” Cassian says. “And the ghosts used to be much quieter, in my head. I could keep them away. Something about you woke them up, brought them back to me. When I needed them more than ever. Right on time. Taraja was always right on time, but the Andors being on time is strange.”

Jyn laughs.

Cassian leans against her, his cheek on her head, and she listens as he hums under his breath.

She turns the kyber crystal over in her hand.

For a moment, she thinks she sees a flash of curly black hair.

Of soft, dark brown eyes.

Of a thin moustache.

A woman’s hand.

A dimpled grin.

A crooked nose.

For a second, she thinks she sees the Andors, thinks they’re right there with them.

But then she blinks, and all she can see is gray.

There is something to be said for that, too.

 

* * *

 

“Where do you want to go next?” Cassian asks, when they’re back on the ship.

The cold of Fest is still present, still leaking through the cracks of the ship to press against them, and so Jyn is still bundled up in her coat and scarf, watching Cassian from her place in the pilot’s seat. Cassian is sitting next to her, in the co-pilot’s seat, without his parka, like he can’t even feel the cold that is sending shivers down her spine.

And she realizes, now, that he really can’t.

The cold is a part of him.

She can understand that much.

“We’ve still got a few days before the Alliance expects us back,” Cassian continues. “We could go to Lah’mu. I would love to see where you grew up. Or Onderon, or any of those planets you told me that you lived on while you worked with Gerrera, and the Partisans--”

“Coruscant,” Jyn says, and she surprises them both.

Cassian frowns.

“That’s… It’d be very dangerous, Jyn. Coruscant is an Imperial world, in the heart of Imperial territory.”

“I know,” Jyn says. “But I…”

She sighs.

“You left Fest when you were thirteen,” she says, and Cassian nods. “After Nerezza died. And you went with Wada to Coruscant, and you lived there until you were twenty, when Taraja died. That’s seven years, Cass. You came of age during those years. And I want… I want to hear about you, what you were like, then.”

Cassian considers this, staring very hard at Jyn’s face. She stares back, unblinking, wondering what he’s looking for, if he can possibly find it in her.

“It’ll be very dangerous,” he repeats. “I can’t… I can’t show you all the places I went. There are places in Coruscant I cannot be seen in anymore, because there are people who will recognize me, and kill me on the spot. We’ll have to be very, very careful.”

She blanches. “Cass, we don’t have to--”

“No,” Cassian says, quickly. “No, it’s fine. We should go. There is someone on Coruscant who I do want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Asori Joshi. She’s the head of the Coruscant Rebellion. I’ve known her since I was fifteen.”

“Did you meet her in the Rebellion there, then?”

Cassian smiles.

“Sort of,” he says. “I was already involved by the time she joined. She’s an instructor at the Royal Imperial Academy, and she joined the Rebellion to spy on the Empire there for us.”

“ _What?_ ”

The Royal Imperial Academy is considered to be the most prestigious, and distinguished, of the handful of Imperial Military academies in the galaxy. It is very competitive, very rigorous, and boasts alumni who go on to become powerful and respected Imperial leaders.

Cassian frowns suddenly, thinking.

“Instructor,” he mutters. “Yeah, I think she’s still an instructor. She was still teaching there, last time I spoke to her, about a year or so ago.”

“You went back to Coruscant?”

“What? Oh, no, I was recruiting for the Alliance in the Albarrio Sector, in the Outer Rim. Asori was there to see about recruiting a sixteen-year-old to pose as a cadet at the Academy, to spy for the Rebellion.”

Jyn snorts. “Kriff, what teenager could possibly do _that?_ ”

Cassian looks at her.

Jyn’s mouth drops open.

“You _didn’t_.”

“I was fifteen,” Cassian says, smirking a little at Jyn’s obvious shock. “A year too young to enroll, legally, but Asori thought I could pass for sixteen, and she was right. I enlisted at the Academy as Joreth Sward, from Fest, and I was there for the full three years, and I graduated, second in my class. After I graduated, I worked full-time in Imperial Intelligence on Coruscant, as Lieutenant Joreth Sward, for about two years, while passing on intelligence about Imperial movements and strategy to the Coruscant Rebellion.”

Jyn can only stare at him.

She’s learned a lot about Cassian over the past few days, a lot that has shocked and unnerved her, but this might be the most stunning, and overwhelming.

She can’t imagine the kind of bravery it took, to be a teenager, and a spy inside the Empire, in one of its most hallowed and powerful institutions.

Or the kinds of horrors he must’ve seen, and experienced, working in Imperial Intelligence.

Some of her sorrow and sympathy must cross her face, because Cassian turns away, clearing his throat.

“Take us to Coruscant,” he tells her.

 

* * *

 

Jyn also used to live on Coruscant, though it’s been a while.

The planet looks much the same as she remembers.

It is a single, massive, sprawling city, industrialized and urbanized to the extreme. The air is smoggy and cloudy, and thick with traffic, and she asks Cassian to take over landing, feeling far too inexperienced at flying in such a crowded place. He does, and she sits in the co-pilot’s seat, staring at the gleaming buildings, the speeding transports and ships, and the streets below, stretching out as far as the eye can see.

They land in a Port, and Cassian turns to her.

“If you hear anyone say the name Joreth Sward, drop what you’re doing, and _run_ ,” he says, voice sharp. “Or if we’re attacked by any Imperials, even if they don’t say that name, you run. They might figure out who I used to be, if they catch me. So you have to run, right away. Do not wait for me. Do not look back. _Run_. Come back here, and message the Alliance, and tell them what happened. And if I’m not back in three hours, then you _leave_. Do not fight me on this, Jyn.”

Jyn frowns. “Do they know you’re--”

“That Joreth Sward was a spy? No. They didn’t find out. But Joreth Sward is supposed to be dead. If anyone who knew me then saw me now, they’d know it was all a lie. They might decide to investigate Asori, because Asori recruited Joreth Sward for the Empire. And they _cannot_ find out who Asori is. And that is why you need to tell the Alliance if I’m caught, so Asori can run.”

Jyn nods, mulling this over.

“Jyn.”

She looks up, meeting Cassian’s eyes.

“You have to promise me. That you’ll run if they find me here. You’ll need to tell the Alliance what happened, so they can tell Asori to run before the Empire can catch her. The Alliance can survive without me, but the Coruscant Rebellion cannot survive without her. She _needs_ to know that she has to run. _Promise_ me, Jyn.”

Jyn stares up at him, warring with herself.

The thought of leaving Cassian behind like that, to fend for himself, is difficult to accept. She knows he can take care of himself, knows he’s capable of surviving on his own, but she doesn’t want to leave him, to run away while he fights for his life.

“Cassian,” she whispers.

He groans, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Fine, how about this,” he says. “If we’re attacked, you run. Instantly. No hesitation. You tell the Alliance we got separated, that the Empire might’ve caught me, and that Asori needs to flee. And then you give me three hours to get back to you. And if I’m not back by then, if you really have to, if you cannot possibly stop yourself… _Then_ you can look for me. But only then, only after Asori is safe. Okay?”

She recognizes this plan for what it is: a compromise.

She’s still not thrilled, but it’s better.

“Okay,” she says.

“It’s very, very important that Asori is not discovered,” Cassian repeats. “I trust you to understand that, and I trust you to do what needs to be done, to keep her alive and anonymous. I _trust_ you, Jyn.”

She nods.

She understands the importance of trust, the weight of it, what it means for Cassian to trust her with this, with the life of his mentor.

“If we’re very careful, we won’t have to worry about this,” Cassian reminds her. “But we need to have a plan, just in case. I… Asori does so much good for the Rebellion here. She can’t die because of me. If I’m caught, I can lie, I can tell them she didn’t know I was a spy, it doesn’t matter what they do to me--”

“Cassian, let’s not,” Jyn interjects, eyes closing for a moment. “Just don’t.”

He nods.

“Come on,” he says, and she follows him out of the ship.

Cassian walks quickly through the crowds around the port, so quickly that Jyn almost has to run to keep up. Coruscant is warmer than Fest, and they’re both wearing thinner, dark-colored jackets, blending into the general grime that mars the city streets.

She follows Cassian into a side alley, slowing in confusion as he walks towards an unremarkable gray wall.

“What…”

But she doesn’t finish her question, because Cassian presses his hand to the stone, and a door slides open, revealing an elevator, set into the very wall.

He steps inside and turns, jerking his head at her, holding the door open.

“Come on,” he says.

Jyn takes a breath, and follows him inside.

The doors close, and they start to drop.

“Where are we?”

“The Coruscant Rebellion does not fight on the upper levels of the planet,” Cassian says. “The Empire would stomp us out very quickly.”

She notes his use of _us_ , how easily he slips into labeling himself as a member.

“We fight underground,” Cassian says. “Under the surface, in the Coruscant Underworld. You said you wanted to see where I came of age. When I was not at the Royal Imperial Academy, or Imperial Intelligence, I was down here. Crawling out of the cracks of the city. Living in the dark. Quite literally.”

Jyn knows of the Coruscant Underworld; anyone who has ever spent any time on Coruscant knows of it. But she’s never visited it, never did as a young child with her parents. The Underworld was too dangerous for a child, is still regarded as unsafe, as unstable. Crime-ridden. Filled with thieves and criminals. A war zone, just under the heart of the Empire.

She isn’t even surprised that Cassian lived here, that he came of age here.

“Wada and Taraja spent more time fighting down here than I did,” Cassian says. “Since I spent so much time on the surface of the planet, at the Academy, at Imperial Intelligence. But they’d tell me their stories, and I would return to the Underworld when term ended at school. I would stay at Wada’s place during my breaks.”

“What happened to Wada?” Jyn asks, because she knows he died, three years before Taraja, when Cassian was seventeen.

“His ship was shot down by the Empire,” Cassian says, expression subdued. “He’d gone with a few other rebels to the Port, to steal imported ammunition, I believe. He actually died when I was sixteen, but I didn’t find out he’d died until five months after, when I was seventeen.”

“ _What?_ ”

Cassian shrugs. “I was in my second year at the Academy, and so Asori decided not to tell me while I was still there, practically drowning in coursework. She was going to tell me at break, but I went back to the Rebellion base early, and another rebel offered me condolences. I had no idea what he was talking about, and so he was the one to tell me. I was… I was pretty miserable. I fell into a deep melancholia, grieving the loss of my last family.”

A smile suddenly crosses Cassian’s face, enough for Jyn to stare, confused by this change in expression.

“And then, during one of my pointless walks through the Underworld to try and take my mind off Wada, I came across a fight between stormtroopers and a few rebels,” Cassian says. “There was this one fighter, a woman, so fearless and unyielding, and I could not take my eyes off her. And then she turned. And it was Taraja.” He looks at Jyn. “I hadn’t seen her in six years, heard her voice in four, and there she was, right in front of me. Right on time. Right when I needed her. I had family, again.”

They have to squeeze through a dark alley crowded with trash bins and discarded food waste, the walls of the alley made of rough stone with irregular gaping holes.

“I learned how to climb on Fest,” Cassian says, brushing a hand against the wall. “But I got really good here. Climbing is essential to survival in the Underworld. There are elevators, sure, but when you really need to escape, when you need to _run_ , you climb. On whatever you can. Buildings, fences, transports. Anything, and everything. Tara and I used to race each other, from level to level.” He smiles. “She was always faster than me. She’d make fun of me, call back to me.”

He looks at Jyn, slowing his pace a little.

“On Scarif,” he says. “I told you that when I climbed the data tower, Nerezza and Taraja climbed with me. And they did. Like they did in real life. Of course they came back for the most important climb of my life. I needed them, and they came back to me for it.”

Jyn swallows hard, and nods.

She’s always assumed she has stronger faith than Cassian, but she sees now that this isn’t true.

The Coruscant Rebellion is currently housed in an abandoned hangar, way down on Level 1397 of the Underworld. The air is thick, and polluted, and Jyn pulls her shirt collar up over her mouth, as she and Cassian walk through dark streets, past grim-looking businesses, musty restaurant windows, and vacant shops.

The Underworld gets worse the further down you go.

“I called ahead, while you were flying us here,” Cassian mutters to Jyn as they walk. “Asori said to meet her here. Hopefully she’s told whoever’s running security to expect us.”

“ _Hopefully_?”

She’s smiling, and Cassian rolls his eyes at her.

It is a little like that trip to Jedha.

Jyn is still being introduced to Cassian.

They reach the hangar, a dauntingly large building, and Cassian walks with authority to a single steel gray door. He looks at it, sighs, and knocks.

A small hole in the door, at eye-level, opens up, revealing a pair of sharp black eyes, framed by green skin.

“Asori is expecting us,” Cassian says, before the eyes can ask.

“Name?”

“Jyn Erso,” Cassian says, gesturing to Jyn standing next to him. “And Cassian Andor.”

The eyes blink once, and Cassian stares right back.

The eyes disappear.

The door slides open.

Jyn and Cassian walk inside, side by side.

The Coruscant Rebellion is _huge_. Jyn looks around, somewhat awed, at the sheer number of people, humans and aliens of all types and sizes, talking and laughing, conferring over data maps and star charts, exchanging blasters and knives, and trading clothes. There are plenty of ships too, freighters and smaller transports, and droids buzzing around, beeping loudly, somehow still audible over the chatter of all the rebels.

“There’s so many,” Jyn breathes, and it is so noisy that Cassian doesn’t hear her, even as close as he is.

She follows him through the din, wading through the crowd, towards the back of the building, which is lined with smaller rooms. Cassian walks straight to a room at the end, and knocks on the door.

From inside, Jyn hears a woman call, “Yeah.”

Cassian opens the door.

The room is smaller than she expected, is simply a basic office, with a desk, and file cabinets, and a map of Coruscant hanging on the wall. Sitting behind the desk is a woman, with warm russet-colored skin, soft hazel eyes, and thick black hair, tied back in what Jyn thinks has to be a painfully tight knot at the nape of her neck. The woman looks to be in her mid-forties, is at least twenty years younger than Travia Chan, but looks at Cassian with the same kind of affection as Travia had.

She tuts, shaking her head.

“Cassian Andor,” she says, and she speaks in the same accented Galactic Basic as Jyn does. “I’m glad you finally learned your lesson.”

Her voice is cool, and if it weren’t for the clear warmth in her eyes, Jyn would be nervous.

“What lesson?” Cassian asks, frowning.

“I told you,” the woman says, “Next time you come back from the dead, you _visit me_.”

 _Next time you come back from the dead?_ Jyn wonders. _Next time?_

As in, Cassian has almost died before?

The woman stands, shaking her head, but she grins and laughs when Cassian hugs her, kissing her on the cheek.

“It’s good to see you, Cassian,” she says, patting him on the back, and kissing his cheek.

Cassian straightens, and smiles down at her. “It’s good to see you, Asori.”

He turns back, and Jyn is surprised when he holds out his hand to her. Hesitantly, she takes it, and lets Cassian pull her close.

“Jyn,” Cassian says. “This is Asori Joshi, head of the Coruscant Rebellion, and a Commander of the Imperial Navy. Asori, this is Sergeant Jyn Erso, of Alliance Special Forces.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jyn says, shaking Asori’s hand.

“You can call me Asori,” Asori says, before Jyn has to ask. “I heard all about Scarif, and about you, from Cassian here.”

“Really,” Jyn says, and she hadn’t known.

“Cassian has a history of near death experiences,” Asori says, looking at Cassian from the corner of her eye. “I finally got him to promise to message me when he survived another one. You’d think he’d do that anyway, after a decade of my mentorship, but it seems to slip his mind.”

“I maintain my belief that Iego wasn’t that close.”

“Three blaster shots to the chest and coding twice in a medical center on Jabiim is the _very definition_ of _incredibly close_ , Cassian, don’t be ridiculous.”

Cassian grimaces, while Jyn stares.

Kes has mentioned Iego, has cited it enough that Jyn has assumed something either terrible or important happened to Cassian there. Asori’s words now tell her that it was both.

She thinks of the three blaster scars on Cassian’s chest, the two over his abdomen and the one higher up, on his right side, and she wonders.

“Anyway,” Asori says, “It is nice to meet you, Sergeant.”

“Jyn, please.”

“Not a fan of the Alliance’s rankings?” Asori asks. “Yeah. I can relate. I get enough of that sithspit at work.”

“Are you still at the Academy?” Cassian asks.

Asori sighs. “For the time being. The Death Star… Knowing the Empire made such a thing, and knowing it very nearly killed _you_ … I think about resigning more often than not. But I hear a lot of information at the Academy, and I’ve got a few cadets spying there. I can’t leave them.”

“No,” Cassian agrees.

“I want to introduce you to them,” Asori says. “One of them’s a first year, and the other is a second year, and I think it’d be good for them to talk to you, to know there’s life after the Academy. They’re… Well. You remember what it was like. It isn’t easy to be there, even if it’s for the Rebellion.”

Cassian nods. “I’d love to meet them.”

“Good,” Asori says. “Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full poem "On the Night of the First Snow, Thinking About Tennessee" appears in SESTETS, by Charles Wright.
> 
> Asori Joshi is an Original Character who also appeared frequently in GRAY AREAS.
> 
> Cassian, in canon, did recruit in the Albarrio Sector for the Alliance, at some point, as "Fulcrum", and did use the alias Joreth Sward at some point. Everything else about him here and in GRAY AREAS, including the spying at the Royal Imperial Academy, was made up.
> 
> (If you ever wonder what is canon and what isn't, please ask! I will be delighted to chat.)
> 
> The Royal Imperial Academy, the Coruscant Underworld, and the Alliance's evacuation from Dantooine are all canon Old EU things, and also appear in GRAY AREAS.
> 
> Next chapter, I promise, will shake things up!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She rubs her thumb against the back of Cassian’s hand.
> 
> I love you, she thinks.
> 
> She opens her lips, and slowly mouths the words, learning the shape of them, staring hard at Cassian’s hands.
> 
> I love you, she mouths, practicing how to say it.

 

_You have my permission not to love me —_

_you, who have gone where it is always winter_

_ & returned with the salt of stars in your mouth, _

_your fists full of falling. You can steal me away_

_instead, a lullaby at the speed of sound. Please:_

_swing low, Supernova, & come to carry me home. _

 

-Meg Day, from “Aubade for an Accomplice”

 

* * *

 

The Academy spies are called Rachel Nevran and Wes Telsh. Rachel is sixteen years old, from Kessel, and has thick red hair, freckles, and a hint of a stutter. Wes is seventeen years old, from Rexus, with dark hair and dark brown skin, and a long, thin scar on his cheek.

Asori introduces them to Cassian, and both teenagers brighten.

They shake his hand with enthusiasm, tell him how much Asori has told them about him, how pleased and honored they are to meet him. Cassian is just as praising, telling them that they are doing great, that they are so brave, that the Rebellion is grateful for them and their hard work.

His words ignite hope in their eyes, and it makes Jyn smile.

She might’ve inspired hope in Cassian himself, but she thinks it is nothing compared to the hope Cassian brings to others, to these traumatized teenagers on Coruscant, and to the child soldiers of Fest.

She’s surprised at how excited Rachel and Wes are to meet her, as well, and Jyn finally realizes that most everyone in the assorted network of rebellions beyond the core of the Alliance has heard about Scarif, has read some kind of report of what transpired there, that her name has seemingly been passed around these circles, that there are hundreds of rebels just here on Coruscant who think of her as inspirational.

She finds herself speaking to groups of these rebels, who are all eager for details of Scarif, of the impossible mission that Rogue One somehow completed.

Cassian disappears at some point, and she lets him go.

She knows he hates the attention, even if he’s the best conversationalist she’s ever met.

She’s finally able to escape after a few hours of this, of talking to scarred rebels, of exchanging war stories, of learning about the bombings and underground battles the Coruscant Rebellion fights in the shadows.

It tells her a lot about Cassian, about how easily he slipped into Draven’s secret unit, how he was so eager to take on the dirty, thankless, difficult work for the Alliance.

Jyn wanders around the hangar, searching for Cassian, passing stacks of ammunition, crates of medical supplies, and chattering rebels who nod at her.

She pauses at the sound of her own name.

“... Jyn Erso, huh?” It’s Asori speaking.

“Jyn Erso,” Cassian replies.

Jyn peers around a broken-down transport, and spots Asori and Cassian, sitting at a small metal table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey and two glasses between them. Neither of them have seen her, and Cassian is smiling, and Asori is smirking at him.

“I haven’t seen you this happy in a while, Cassian. Almost forgot you could smile like that.”

Cassian nods, looking at the table. “She’s great. She’s… She’s great.”

“She’s pretty,” Asori says. “Though she doesn’t look much like Taraja.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have a type.”

“Guess not.”

“So… you’re saying _I_ have a chance…”

“Oh, always, Asori. Anytime.”

They both laugh, and Jyn wonders if this is an old joke of theirs.

Asori’s smirk softens. “Did you bring her here to meet me? I’m touched.”

“I wanted her to meet you,” Cassian says. “She’s… I’m trying to explain myself, as best as I can, and Coruscant, and you… Pretty important. I want her to know me.”

“You love her.”

“Very much.”

“You’re a lot quicker on the uptake this time,” Asori comments. “You were so weird, and… and self-conscious about Taraja. It took you ages to fess up to me about her.”

“I was a teenager, Asori. I was awkward, and I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve wised up.” Asori smiles, and then suddenly frowns, fiddling with her glass. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back to Coruscant, not after Taraja died.”

“It’s… It’s strange,” Cassian says, slowly. “Being here, on base like this. I keep thinking she’s going to walk around the corner, or something.”

“Yeah,” Asori agrees. “I do that, too. Not just with Taraja, but… I do that, too.”

“The Rebellion looks great. You’re still doing amazing work here.”

Asori shrugs, modest. “We’re still surviving. Still going _somewhere_.”

“That’s all any of us can do. Try to get somewhere.”

“I’m glad you’re moving on, Cassian,” Asori says. “You were a mess, the last time I saw you here, the day after she died. You weren’t all that much better last year, either, on Mygeeto.”

“I’m getting better. Being around Jyn… She makes me better.”

“Good,” Asori says. “I hate repeating myself--”

“No you don’t, you love hearing yourself talk--”

“Shut it,” Asori says, but she’s smiling, and Cassian smirks. “Anyway. I do give excellent advice: don’t forget the nice things. Don’t forget what keeps you going, or what you fight for.”

Cassian laughs. “Yeah, Asori. I know. You should remember that, too.”

Asori hums in agreement.

There’s a lull in conversation, and Asori uses it to refill their glasses.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Cassian,” she says, abruptly, her voice suddenly serious. “But I hope you aren’t sticking around here for much longer. You really should not be here. Joreth Sward is dead, and you can’t pass as Zeferino anymore, since he’s dead, too.”

Jyn frowns, and she watches as Cassian tenses up, as he stares at Asori.

“You know Zeferino is dead?” he asks.

“ _You_ know Zeferino is dead?” Asori returns.

They stare at each other.

“I…” Cassian pauses. “I heard.”

Asori shakes her head, eyes narrowing. “How? Joreth Sward died the same day Taraja did, there’s no way you could’ve gotten the full report of who all died in the Galactic Opera House. They didn’t report Zeferino died there too until a few days after you left Coruscant.”

Cassian swallows, and looks at the table.

Asori, as it turns out, can read him perfectly.

“Oh, Cassian.”

“He killed her, Asori.”

“Kriff,” Asori whispers, so soft Jyn can barely hear her, and Jyn knows she should move, should leave this conversation, but finds her legs rooted to the floor. “Kriff. _Kriff_. Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Which part? My brother killing my girlfriend, or me killing my brother?”

“Both. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.”

Asori grimaces, and reaches forward to take Cassian’s hand. “I can still be sorry.”

“Yeah,” Cassian murmurs.

“You’ve told Jyn about Zeferino?”

“Some. Working on it. He’s… He isn’t my favorite subject.”

Asori snorts. “No, I expect not. At least you know that you’re a far better man than he ever was.”

Cassian laughs. “Yeah, I’ll drink to that.”

Asori and Cassian both knock back their glasses of whiskey, and Jyn finally walks away, her mind buzzing with questions.

 

* * *

 

Later, Cassian finds Jyn in the room of the Coruscant Rebellion base they’ve been given for the night.

She can smell the whiskey on his breath, but he isn’t the drunkest she’s ever seen him, though the gleam in his eye and the soft smirk on his mouth tells her that he most definitely isn’t sober.

He pulls his jacket off, and sighs, slumping down next to her on the cot.

Jyn sits up a little, struggling out from the blanket, as Cassian is lying down on top of it while she’s stuck under.

“You smell like whiskey,” she tells him.

“Asori favors Tevraki whiskey,” Cassian says, voice slightly muffled from the blanket he’s pressed against. “She keeps a bottle in her office here, and one in her desk at the Academy. Whenever I went to see her after a particularly rough day, she’d pour me a drink, and let me sit in her office for a bit. It was the only escape I got at the Academy.” Cassian blinks, and turns his head, looking up at Jyn. “Her desk at the Academy is made of Quadanium Metal.”

“Okay.”

“The Death Star was, too. I think about that a lot.”

“Oh,” Jyn says, and she cannot think of anything to say.

Cassian sighs.

“Whenever Asori and I see each other, we get very sentimental. Nostalgic. Talk a lot about the past. Sometimes it’s nice, sometimes… it isn’t.” He pauses, and says, “I’m a little drunk, but I’d tell you this sober, anyway, so don’t think I’m just telling you _because_ I’m drunk, okay?”

“What are you--”

“I want to tell you about the day Tara died, the day I killed Zef.”

Jyn bites her lip, but nods. Cassian had told her on Fest that he would tell her this story, and he’d been sober then.

She sits up more, and Cassian rolls onto his back, wrapping one arm around her waist, and putting his head in her lap, so he’s looking up at her and she’s looking down at him.

“The Galactic Opera House,” he says. “There was a performance, and I had to go. For work. I was a Lieutenant, and I was wearing that gray Imperial officer’s uniform. I wore it everyday, and I hated it everyday. Because not many rebels knew I was undercover in the Empire; Asori did, obviously, and Tara did, and a few others. Not many. I was constantly afraid someone would see me wearing it, and think the worst of me. That I had betrayed the Rebellion.”

His sentences are choppy, and she can’t tell if it’s because he’s a little drunk, or if it’s because he wants to get through this memory as quickly as possible.

She blinks, and remembers Cassian pulling on the gray Imperial officer’s uniform on Scarif, remembers staring at how neatly he wore it, how he adjusted the cuffs smoothly, how he kept the core cylinders in the pockets regulation straight. She remembers her confusion, and her realization: he’d worn it before.

She knows, now, when and why.

“Anyway,” Cassian continues. “I was at the Opera, and the Emperor showed up.”

Jyn’s blood runs cold.

“Yeah,” Cassian says, watching her face. “I saw him. He was wearing a long, dark cloak. I couldn’t see his face, but we all knew who it was. My superior officer was thrilled, but I… I kept thinking I had an opportunity. That I might be able to kill him, there. I’d be killed instantly, of course, but… I didn’t even think for a second that it wouldn’t be worth it. I just had to find a way. I spent most of the performance thinking about it, until the floor of the Galactic Opera House exploded.

“Some of the rebels had gotten wind of the Emperor being there, and so Asori authorized an attack. She knew I was there, and Tara did too, but the opportunity to kill the Emperor was too good. They were willing to sacrifice my life, to try to kill the Emperor. I am not bitter about that decision. I would’ve sacrificed them, too. I would’ve felt horrible about it, but I would’ve done it. It wouldn’t have been the first time I put the cause before Tara.”

Jyn’s throat is tight, and she lifts her hand, to card her fingers through Cassian’s hair. His eyes close.

“The rebels all but destroyed the building,” Cassian says. “The Empire was evacuating the building, but I went back in, to try to help the rebels. On a lower level, I ran into Taraja, and her team, Tully, and Kolya. They’d been part of her original Mantooine team, and they tried to kill me, before Tara recognized me. I was wearing the Imperial uniform, so… Tully and Kolya weren’t sure about me, but Tara convinced them to keep trusting me, and so we started running.

“We ran into another squad of rebels, and stormtroopers,” Cassian continues. “It was a mess. The building was still shaking, and settling, and now there was blaster fire everywhere. I lost Tara in the smoke. A rebel, a man I didn’t know, attacked me, thinking I was an Imperial officer, because I was dressed like one. I didn’t want to hurt him, and so I did not really fight back. He was faster than I anticipated. He stabbed me.”

Cassian lifts his shirt, and points to the thin scar on his side, the vibroblade scar that Jyn has seen before.

“I remember…” He swallows. “I remember Tara screaming. I remember falling to the floor. I looked up, and the rebel was holding the vibroblade, and he was pointing it at my face. I remember thinking I was going to die, while wearing an Imperial officer’s uniform. It was, perhaps, the worst fate I could imagine.”

“Scarif…” Jyn whispers.

He smiles. “Yeah. I thought I was going to die wearing an Imperial officer’s uniform, then, too. I was very happy that climbing the data tower necessitated taking the coat and cap off. I’ve always wanted to die looking like myself, like a rebel. It doesn’t seem like too much to ask.”

“No,” Jyn agrees.

“Anyway, I thought I was going to die like that,” Cassian says. “And so I looked away from the blade, and I looked for Taraja. She’d been trying to get to me, but she’d gotten distracted by blaster fire, and had her back to me. I remember staring at her, and wishing she’d turn around, so I could see her face one more time. She didn’t turn around in time. I think it was the first time she was ever late for anything.

“Instead, the rebel about to kill me was shot. He fell to the ground, dead; he’d been killed by an actual Imperial officer, who’d assumed like the rebel had, that I was with the Empire. I was still alive. Wounded, but… Alive. I got to my feet, and the smoke cleared a little, and I saw Tara. She was staring at me, shocked. Neither of us could believe that we were still alive.”

Cassian sighs, and catches Jyn’s free hand, pressing it to his chest.

“I heard a voice say my name,” he whispers, looking at her fingers. “It was a voice I’d recognize anywhere, a voice I’d grown up with, one of the first voices I can remember ever hearing. I cannot count the number of times he’d say my name, call for me, laugh with me, follow me around our mother’s house. I looked through the smoke, and I saw that the Imperial officer who’d shot the rebel, who’d saved my life, was Zeferino.

“He stared at me, and we were both so stunned. We hadn’t seen each other in seven years, and I imagine the shock for him was greater, because there I was, his rebel brother, in an Imperial officer’s uniform, on Coruscant. I’d already known he was in Imperial Intelligence. Captain Zeferino Andor.”

“He was a Captain, too?”

“And also in Intelligence,” Cassian confirms. “I think about that a lot, too.”

Jyn’s mouth quirks, and she nods, waiting for him to continue.

“I said his name,” Cassian says. “And Taraja heard me, and she gasped, because I’d told her a lot about him, and so she knew exactly who he was. Zeferino heard her. I don’t think he saw her there before, and so he turned, and he raised his blaster, and he shot her.

“I couldn’t breathe,” Cassian continues, gripping Jyn’s hand almost painfully tight. “I ran over to her, and she was… She was dying, but I couldn’t accept it. He’d shot her just above her heart, and she was bleeding out. I heard Zeferino coming over, and so I grabbed Tara’s blaster, and I turned, and I shot him in the thigh. He fell, and I turned back to Tara. And she… She knew she was dying, and so she tried to comfort _me_. She told me to keep going. _All the way_ , I said, as you know. And I picked her up, and I kissed her, and I held her, and I listened to her gasp and choke, and I told her I was there, that I wasn’t going to leave her, that it was okay, that she had done enough, that she could go. And she did. It felt like seconds but it probably took minutes.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jyn says.

Cassian nods. “I was in shock. I just… I sat there with her. It was like my mother, or Ezza, all over again; part of me wished I’d died with her. For a long time, I was convinced that part of me _had_ died with Tara.” He shakes his head. “But I couldn’t sit there for long. I heard Zeferino breathing, still stuck on the floor since I’d shot his leg, and so I left Taraja, and I went over to him. The lights in the hall had mostly been shut off, since the Opera House was so destroyed, but there were little fires everywhere, from frayed wiring and the blaster shots, and so I could see him quite clearly when I crouched down next to him.

“I was struck,” Cassian murmurs, “By how much we looked alike. We hadn’t really, as children, but at twenty, and twenty-four… We definitely looked like brothers. Same height, same Imperial Military short hair, same mouth. Our eyes are different, because Zef had our father’s eyes, and I have our mother’s. But we looked very much alike then, especially since we were wearing the same gray Imperial officer’s uniform, with the same short hair. Much shorter than my hair is now. I was clean-shaven then, too, because the Empire forbids facial hair; detracts from the uniformity. And I didn’t sound like myself, either. I had to suppress my accent, to stick to a… they called it a _cleaner_ Galactic Basic. They just didn’t want me to sound like I was from the Outer Rim, or Fest.”

Jyn nods, though she cannot hear Cassian’s voice without his accent. She doesn’t want to.

“A couple years earlier, an Imperial officer had actually mistaken me for Zeferino, on Empress Teta. With the uniform, and my short hair, and my fake accent. I’d thought it odd at the time, but… It was probably fair. Understandable.”

Jyn’s not so sure about that, but she couldn’t interrupt Cassian now.

“I looked at Zef, and I told him he was right,” Cassian says. “That nothing was so black and white, not the Rebellion, not the Empire. It was the kind of thing he’d told me, frequently, when we were children. I told him that he didn’t have to explain himself. I told him I actually understood him, at last. And I asked if he remembered the last thing he’d said to me on Fest.” Cassian blinks up at her. “I told you. Do you remember, Jyn?”

Jyn does. She remembers their conversation from just the other day, in the room on the Fest Rebellion base, when Cassian had told her of the day Nerezza died.

“He asked you if you were good,” she whispers.

Cassian nods. “Yeah. There in the Opera House, I told him I had an answer for him, that it was an answer I thought he’d suspected about me, one that I’d long tried to hide from myself, to deny. But I wasn’t going to deny it anymore. Zeferino always did know me better than I know myself.

“I said, ‘ _I’m not good, Zeferino._ ’ And then I picked up his blaster, and I shot him, through the forehead. It was the same shot that killed Nerezza. He might’ve made it himself. I don’t know. I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem to matter.”

Cassian exhales, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply, clutching Jyn’s hand tight to him, and she can feel his heart beating under their hands, can feel it beating so quickly.

“And that was how I killed my brother,” Cassian says, eyes still closed. “Asori knows, now. She guessed. I wasn’t supposed to know he’d died in the Opera House. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to know that, so. It doesn’t matter anymore. It was six years ago.”

His lips twist in a frown.

“Are you okay?” Jyn asks, softly.

“I don’t regret killing him,” Cassian says. He opens his eyes, meeting hers. “Can you believe that? I’m okay with killing my own brother. In cold blood, no less. That’s… It’s despicable. The kind of thing that’d get me arrested, on _any_ planet. Exiled from Fest, for sure.”

He stares up at Jyn.

“I wouldn’t blame you, for thinking less of me now,” he whispers. “I know, it’s… You’ve forgiven me for a lot, I think. For not being able to save your father on Eadu, for being willing to sacrifice him, for--”

“Cass,” Jyn says, interrupting. “No. Not at all. There isn’t anything to forgive. There never has been.”

“This is different, Jyn,” Cassian says, and he’s smiling so sadly, so miserably, and she can see the years and years of pain, of hiding this secret, of burying it in his heart. “I’ve killed my own family. My own flesh and blood. That’s a special brand of monstrous. The kind of, of… abhorrent thing you’d expect from the _Empire_ \--”

Jyn cuts him off, by leaning down and kissing him.

The angle is awkward, and she has to bend almost in half to reach his face, but it works. Cassian stills beneath her hands, before surging up to kiss her back, tangling his hands in her hair, smiling against her mouth.

When she opens her eyes, he’s staring at her like she is everything he’s ever wanted.

“I’m with you,” Jyn says, softly. “No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Cassian repeats, wonderingly.

She smiles. “All the way.”

“All the way,” he breathes. “No one’s promised me that, before.”

“Well, I am now. Believe it.”

“I almost do,” he whispers. “But you don’t know everything yet. Killing my brother… It isn’t the worst thing I’ve done.”

She blinks. She doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Cassian sighs. “Come here.”

She lies down, still under the blankets, and Cassian wraps his arms around her, pressing his nose into her neck, his chest to her back. She twines her fingers through his, entangling their legs.

“You’re going to have a hangover in the morning,” she mutters.

He laughs, his beard brushing against her skin. “I’ll survive.”

Jyn believes him.

He kisses her neck. “I love you.”

She stills, and listens as his breaths slowly even out, as he falls asleep.

She looks at his hands, wrapped around hers.

She thinks of the blood that has covered his hands.

Literally: his own blood, and Taraja’s blood.

Figuratively: his brother’s blood.

She rubs her thumb against the back of Cassian’s hand.

_I love you_ , she thinks.

She opens her lips, and slowly mouths the words, learning the shape of them, staring hard at Cassian’s hands.

_I love you_ , she mouths, practicing how to say it.

She wants to tell him.

She’s almost ready.

She’ll get there.

 

* * *

 

Though the Royal Imperial Academy is currently on break, Asori is pulled into a morning meeting, and so she is unable to see Jyn and Cassian off.

Cassian doesn’t look offended, or upset by this.

“She works a lot,” he says to Jyn. “She does so much for the cause. The Rebellion is very lucky to have her.”

Jyn thinks of how Asori, and even Taraja, had been willing to sacrifice Cassian in order to attempt to assassinate the Emperor. She thinks of how calmly Cassian had told her this, how he’d spoken so candidly. She believes him when he says he isn’t bitter about it, or upset.

She isn’t sure she believes him when he says that he had put the cause before Taraja, though.

But she keeps this to herself.

They leave the hangar, and take an elevator to go back to the upper levels of Coruscant.

Cassian looks shockingly relaxed, in the dim Coruscanti sunlight, and they walk more slowly through the crowded streets, past vendors and shoppers and pedestrians. Jyn knows they’re in CoCo Town, which is considered to be a relatively safe district on Coruscant, as there is a higher number of anti-Imperialists in the area, and the Empire tends to be more lenient.

Her eye catches on a sign, and she freezes, there on the sidewalk.

Cassian notices she’s stopped, and turns.

“Jyn, what--” But he breaks off, as he follows her gaze.

ALDERAANIAN GOODS.

There is a couple running this hugely popular stand, covered in a variety of goods, from clothes, to art pieces, to various bits of technology, to foods. The couple are Er’Kits, are very obviously not from Alderaan, and Jyn has no idea where they could’ve gotten these supposed Alderaanian things.

Alderaan was destroyed six months ago.

“This is horrible,” Jyn hisses.

“Maybe they were from Alderaan.”

“ _Cass_ \--”

“We don’t _know_ ,” Cassian hisses back. “Travia doesn’t look Festian, but she’s just as Festian as me.”

“No Alderaanian is going to be selling the things they have left of their planet,” Jyn snaps. “Can you imagine Princess Leia giving away anything like that?”

Cassian’s mouth twists in a frown. “No.”

Jyn looks away from the vendors, from the tourists and gawkers clamoring around the stand. Her stomach is in knots, and she feels both sick and furious. She turns back to Cassian, reaching for his hand, when she catches sight of the look on his face.

He isn’t looking at the stand anymore, but rather, further up the street.

He looks like he’s staring at a ghost.

Jyn turns around, standing on her toes to see through the crowd.

About twenty yards away, a small squad of stormtroopers around him, a man in a gray Imperial officer’s uniform has frozen, and is staring directly at Cassian. The man has pale skin like Jyn, curly light brown hair, and gray-blue eyes, and the expression on his face perfectly mirrors the one on Cassian’s.

“Jyn,” Cassian whispers, and Jyn turns back around.

Keeping his eyes locked on the man, Cassian speaks to her, his voice hard: “ _Run_.”

She stares at Cassian.

The street is loud, but the man’s voice somehow manages to reach Cassian and Jyn.

“Joreth Sward,” the man says.

Jyn stops breathing.

She turns, to look back at the man, but Cassian’s fist to her jaw sends her falling, sends her tumbling to the ground, and Cassian steps over her, shoves a few other people out of the way, and begins to run down a side alley.

She gasps, her breath gone, her jaw aching, and so she can only lie on the dirty street and watch Cassian run.

She watches the stormtroopers, and the man in the Imperial officer’s uniform, ignore her and chase after Cassian, the man shouting something, the stormtroopers raising their blasters and firing at Cassian’s back.

Cassian doesn’t stop, and she watches as he throws himself against a wall, as he begins to climb.

He’s a good climber, she knows.

He climbed on Fest, with Nerezza, as a child.

He climbed around the Coruscant Underworld, with Taraja, as a teenager.

He climbed the data tower on Scarif, for Jyn, as an adult.

Jyn watches as he climbs now.

He disappears over the top of a building, and the stormtroopers move around it, going on different sides, to try and head him off.

The man in the Imperial officer’s uniform has stopped running, and is speaking urgently into a comlink.

He turns around, and looks back at Jyn, still sprawled on the street, her jaw red and aching with Cassian’s hit.

She gathers herself together.

She gets to her feet, and runs in the opposite direction.

 

* * *

 

Jyn goes back to the base of the Coruscant Rebellion, down in the Underworld.

She raises her fist and slams it against the steel door, repeatedly, until the hole near the top opens, and the dark eyes peer out again.

“I need to see Asori,” Jyn says, gasping a little, completely out of breath from running down here, from doubling back, from making sure she wasn’t being followed. “It’s an emergency. It’s about Cassian Andor.”

She doesn’t know if Asori is here, if she’s gotten back from her meeting yet, but she figures that this is a good place to look for her, that even if she isn’t here that someone will have a way to contact her that is quicker than Jyn going back to the ship they’d taken to get to Coruscant, and contacting the Alliance, just to contact Asori.

Cassian’s great fear seems to have been realized: the Imperial officer had recognized Cassian as Joreth Sward, meaning the Empire now knows Joreth Sward is alive, that Joreth Sward was an imposter, that Asori Joshi is not as loyal to the Empire as she appears to be. Asori needs to run, and hide.

The door opens.

Jyn doesn’t wait around to speak to the unknown doorman, but starts to sprint again, running through the assembled and loitering rebels. They part for her, staring, and she hears more than one of them say her name with confusion, but she doesn’t slow or stop.

She keeps going, until she reaches Asori’s office.

She doesn’t knock, but flings the door open.

Asori is there, sitting at her desk, a cigarette in one hand.

She raises her eyebrows, taking in the sight of a breathless Jyn, sweat pooling at her brow, her jaw bright red with a forming bruise.

“Jyn, what--”

“Cassian,” Jyn says, panting. “It’s Cassian.”

Asori’s eyes widen. She straightens, lowering her cigarette.

“Close the door, Jyn. And then sit down.”

Jyn nods, closing the door, and collapses in a chair in front of Asori’s desk. Asori has procured a jug of water from seemingly out of nowhere, and pushes a glass into Jyn’s hands.

“Drink. Breathe. And then tell me everything.”

Jyn follows these instructions, and then launches into speech.

“We were on the surface,” she says. “Headed back to our ship. We went through CoCo Town, but we’d paused, because we saw this one stand, these Er’Kits selling things from Alderaan.”

She knows it sounds ridiculous, isn’t sure Asori will understand why it’d made Cassian and Jyn stop in the street.

Asori has almost definitely never seen the destruction caused by the Death Star, has never survived it, like Cassian and Jyn have.

Still, the woman nods.

“And I looked up, and Cassian was staring at this man,” Jyn says. “A man in an Imperial officer’s uniform. And the man was staring back. And then he called Cassian Joreth Sward, and Cassian told me to run, and then he… He _hit_ me, but it was just to get me out of the way, to make the stormtroopers and the man think we weren’t together.”

As she speaks, she realizes that it’s true. Cassian had hit her to knock her down, to distract the Imperials, to remind them of their actual target; him.

Her jaw still aches, though.

“And Cassian started running, and they all started chasing him,” Jyn continues. “And he climbed a wall and disappeared, and I… When we got to Coruscant, Cassian had told me that if we were attacked by Imperials that I was to find you, in case they caught him, and figured out he’d been a spy in the Empire and that he’d been recruited by you. So I… So I left him.”

She stops speaking then, the words settling in her, the truth of them.

She’d left him.

Cassian is someone who has never once left Jyn, has always gone back for her. When the Death Star attacked Jedha, he looked for her in the catacombs of Saw Gerrera’s headquarters, even though he barely knew her, even though he should’ve immediately fled, to save himself. When the Alliance bombed the Research Facility on Eadu, Cassian had run towards the blasts, to find Jyn on the platform, to tug her away from her father’s dead body, to take her back to a shuttle, to escape. When they climbed the data tower on Scarif, and Cassian had fallen, he’d suffered severe injuries, including internal bleeding and broken ribs and a bruised spine, and had still managed to scale the tower, injuring himself even worse in the process, but making it to the top in time to kill the man in white who’d haunted Jyn’s life for so long.

Cassian has never abandoned Jyn, not like everyone else in her life.

But now, she’s abandoned him.

She’s dragged back to the present moment by Asori’s voice.

“You did the correct thing, Jyn,” Asori says, and the older woman’s hazel eyes are wide but sharp. She clears her throat, and stands, moving around the room, gathering datapads and papers and notebooks and shoving them into a bag.

“What are you doing?” Jyn asks.

“I need to go to a safe place,” Asori says. “At least one of those men who saw Cassian knew he used to be Joreth Sward, which means the Empire now knows Joreth Sward did not die in the Galactic Opera House six years ago, which means the Empire knows I am someone whose loyalties they need to reexamine.”

She pulls her bag over her shoulder.

“What did Cassian tell _you_ to do next?”

Jyn swallows. “Go back to the ship and wait for him. I’m to give him three hours, and then…”

She loses her voice.

“Go back to the Alliance?” Asori guesses. “That sounds about right. Kriff.”

“I was going to give him an hour and a half,” Jyn adds.

A small smile crosses Asori’s face.

“Yeah, that sounds about right too,” she says. “An hour and a half. All right. Let’s go to your ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meg Day's beautiful "Aubade for an Accomplice" appeared in Vinyl Poetry.
> 
> Asori's comment "You did the correct thing" was very carefully chosen language. Correct vs. Right was frequently a point of contention between her and Cassian; they did not always agree. (This will become more obvious next chapter.)
> 
> And look, plot!!! This story has a happy ending, I PROMISE.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You must remember this, she thinks. You must remember him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: suggestion of torture, generally Grim imagery
> 
> And don't forget, this story has a happy ending!

 

_Long ago, I was wounded. I lived_

_to revenge myself_

_against my father, not_

_for what he was—_

_for what I was: from the beginning of time,_

_in childhood, I thought_

_that pain meant_

_I was not loved._

_It meant I loved._

 

-Louise Glück, “First Memory”

 

* * *

  

Jyn and Asori leave the Coruscant Underworld, making their way back to the Port where the ship Jyn and Cassian took to Mantooine, and then to Fest, and finally to Coruscant, is waiting.

Asori only pauses to speak to her second-in-command, a Togruta male with soft red skin and yellow eyes, who nods, and says something in response that Jyn doesn’t hear.

But no alarm has been sounded, no announcement of imminent evacuation has been given, and no one else in the base has any idea of what’s happened.

“You’re not evacuating the base?” Jyn asks, walking next to Asori, looking up at the taller woman.

“Oh, no,” Asori says, sounding almost surprised at Jyn’s question.

“But… Cassian--”

“Cassian was right to be concerned that the Empire would connect Joreth Sward to me,” Asori says. “And as we know, they are aware that he used to be Joreth Sward, which means that _I_ need to hide. However, the Empire can only learn of the location of this base from Cassian himself. And he won’t tell them. They’ll try to torture it out of him, undoubtedly, but he won’t break.” She looks down at Jyn, and smiles, though it’s somber. “The Coruscant Rebellion was his home for many years. Not to put too fine a point on it, but he would quite literally rather die than betray it, and me.”

Jyn takes in her speech, and thinks about it during their quiet walk back to the ship.

It’s not that Jyn doubts Cassian’s loyalty to the cause.

It’s not even that Jyn thinks Cassian _might_ break under torture; she’s pretty confident he wouldn’t.

It’s Asori’s calm, absolute certainty.

It’s how she shows not even a hint of hesitation, a hint of doubt. Nothing. She believes in Cassian, wholeheartedly, enough to not order an evacuation or even tell more rebels beyond her second-in-command of what’s happened, that an Alliance Intelligence officer who knows virtually everything about the Coruscant Rebellion has been caught by the Empire.

It is a kind of stunning, unshakeable faith in Cassian Andor that Jyn has only ever seen from herself.

It is a faith not shared by Draven, or even Leia Organa, or any of the other Alliance leaders.

Jyn trusts Cassian like no one else, even as she knows she doesn’t fully understand him. She trusts him with her life, with her body, and maybe even her heart, though she isn’t sure she’s there yet.

She doesn’t know all the facts of Cassian’s life, doesn’t have a full timeline or history of it, but she knows, exactly who he is.

He’s someone who loves her, someone she’d trust in any situation.

_“Jyn, you know me better than anyone else.”_

The realization is almost enough to floor her.

 _I trust you, so I know you_ , she thinks. _I know you, so I trust you_.

Asori Joshi, walking alongside her, is someone who also gets this, Jyn knows, following a decade of mentorship and friendship with Cassian, in the Coruscant Rebellion, and in the walls of the Royal Imperial Academy.

Ten years of friendship, and this is where Asori and Cassian are.

Six months of… something, and this is where Jyn and Cassian are.

She thinks of Cassian’s unshakeable faith, his quiet spirituality.

_“Jyn, you know me better than anyone else.”_

She thinks of her own faith, and realizes it’s with him, that the two are inextricably intertwined.

Jyn and Asori reach the ship, and Jyn immediately sinks into the pilot’s chair, her heart heavy enough to drag her down.

 _“Jyn. Run_. _”_

She closes her eyes.

“Let’s see,” Asori breathes, sitting in the co-pilot’s chair. Jyn opens her eyes, and watches Asori as she pulls a datapad out from her bag, flicking through the files on it.

“Well, there’s no record of Joreth Sward in Imperial custody,” Asori says after a moment.

Jyn straightens. “Maybe they didn’t catch him.”

Asori’s face sours. “Rebels never have such good luck. It’s more likely they either haven’t updated records, or…”

“Or?”

“Or, they don’t want to admit they had a spy in their ranks for so long, and are going to torture and kill him very quietly, off the books.”

“Oh,” Jyn says.

“It is, obviously, not the preferable situation,” Asori says, and Jyn hates the naked sympathy in her eyes, hates the way she’s looking at Jyn like she’s sorry, like she’s so sorry. “But it could very well be the true one. We’ll have to wait and see. An hour and a half, you said?”

_“If we’re attacked, you run. Instantly. No hesitation. You tell the Alliance we got separated, that the Empire might’ve caught me, and that Asori needs to flee. And then you give me three hours to get back to you. And if I’m not back by then, if you really have to, if you cannot possibly stop yourself… Then you can look for me.”_

But three hours is too long, too unknown. She will wait an hour and a half, to make sure Asori has not been tracked, as Cassian so desperately fears, and then Jyn will look for him.

_“Jyn. Run.”_

“He knew who the officer was,” Jyn says, softly. “I saw Cassian’s face. He recognized the officer. He looked like he was staring at a ghost. The officer had the same expression.”

Asori frowns. “Doesn’t surprise me. He could’ve been one of Cassian’s teachers, or--”

“He wasn’t,” Jyn says. “He looked to be Cassian’s age. Uh, pale skin, curly light brown hair… Light, light blue eyes, kind of gray--”

She doesn’t know exactly why she’s describing the man.

And she definitely doesn’t know which part of this description alarms Asori.

But the woman suddenly sits up straight.

“Light blue eyes, curly brown hair?” Asori repeats. “Cassian’s age?”

“Yeah.”

Asori returns to the datapad, typing quickly. She passes the screen to Jyn a moment later.

“Is this him?”

Jyn looks down, and recognizes the Imperial officer from CoCo Town. He has the same, short curly brown hair, same light skin, and same odd gray-blue eyes. He’s staring at her impassively, in this headshot in Imperial records, wearing the gray Imperial officer’s uniform.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Jyn says. “Why, who is he?”

Asori’s sad face has turned tense, and almost haunted.

“Cassian is in more trouble than we thought,” she murmurs. “Because that’s Ethan Bain.”

“Who is Ethan Bain?”

But Asori has been struck by another thought. She returns to the datapad, and Jyn watches, completely lost. Asori had been grim and sad before, but this revelation, that it was Ethan Bain who might have caught Cassian, has caused her demeanor to change. She’s still grim, but there’s a fierceness to it, alongside an odd, and unbecoming of her, hopelessness.

Like she no longer thinks Cassian has a shot at survival.

Like she thinks there is no point in Jyn and her waiting in the Port.

“Kriff,” Asori hisses, staring at the datapad. “Kriff. _Kriff_.”

“What is it?” Jyn asks, and she leans over.

She reads, heart in her throat, that Cassian Andor has been captured by the Empire on Coruscant.

That Cassian Andor is scheduled to be executed in three hours.

Asori sighs, leaning back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose, and closing her eyes.

“Kriff,” she says again. “Just… _damn it_.”

“How did they know?” Jyn breathes. “How did they know his real name?”

“Because Ethan Bain is one of only… gods, three people, now four counting you, to know that Joreth Sward was an alias for Cassian Andor,” Asori says. “Cassian told him his real name.”

“But he’s an Imperial--”

“No,” Asori says. “No, he wasn’t. Not at first. Cassian met Ethan Bain at the Royal Imperial Academy, when they were both there as cadets. He recruited Ethan, and Ethan’s family, for the Coruscant Rebellion.” Asori opens her eyes, and looks at Jyn. “Cassian and Ethan stayed in touch after their graduation; Cassian went to work in Imperial Intelligence, and Ethan went to work in Advanced Weapons Research, all the while spying for the Rebellion. Those boys… They were very close. Best friends, for years, as teenagers.”

“So Ethan is a rebel?”

“He used to be. Not anymore. Not since…” And Asori trails off.

Jyn stares. “Not since _what_ , Asori?”

“Not since Ethan left the Rebellion,” Asori murmurs. “Seven years ago. After Cassian killed Ethan’s little brother.”

Jyn feels ice traveling up her spine.

_“But you don’t know everything yet. Killing my brother… It isn’t the worst thing I’ve done.”_

“How…” Jyn swallows. “How did… How was--”

“Cassian learned, through Imperial Intelligence, that Sebastian Bain, Ethan’s younger brother, was spying on the Rebellion,” Asori says, speaking quickly, like she doesn’t want to linger on the memory for long. “Sebastian told the Empire of where our base was, and the Empire attacked. We lost thousands of rebels in one night, because of it. Because of Sebastian. Cassian knew, and he was correct, that the Empire would continue questioning Sebastian, now that they had confirmed that he did know valuable and accurate information. They knew Sebastian’s name, and where to find him. So Cassian made the decision to kill Sebastian, before he could tell the Empire anything more, including my name.”

Asori sighs. “Sebastian was… a child. Naive. Stupid, but… Well-intentioned. Cassian told me later that the reason Sebastian had betrayed us was because he believed ending the Rebellion would end the war. He just wanted his family to stop fighting. He meant well, but… He doomed so many that day. And he doomed himself. The Empire would not have left him alone, not after his information was proven to be so vital. Cassian was correct in killing him. Correct; I don’t know if he was _right_. Sebastian was… eleven years old, I believe.”

And Jyn doesn’t know what to say.

She thinks of how warmly, and glowingly, everyone has spoken of Cassian lately, of Loom Carplin’s clear-eyed admiration, Travia Chan’s soft smile, and Asori Joshi’s loud laughter.

But here. Here is something else. Something more. Here is something Cassian did not tell Jyn, did not know how to tell her. Something he might not have even wanted Jyn to know.

_“Everything I did, I did for the Rebellion. And every time I walked away from something I wanted to forget, I told myself it was for a cause that I believed in. A cause that was worth it.”_

“Cassian was very broken up about it,” Asori says, voice soft. “I don’t think he was ever truly the same again, after. He loved Sebastian Bain, and Ethan Bain, like they were his own brothers. Ethan’s parents, too, adored Cassian. Practically adopted him into their family. But Cassian was closest to the Bain brothers.”

Jyn thinks of _kin killing_ , of how Cassian had described the act of killing one’s own brother.

“There was a…” Asori sighs. “Ethan ran into him, right after he’d killed Sebastian. I don’t know the specifics of it exactly, but Ethan did beat him up pretty good. And Cassian let it happen, more or less. If Taraja hadn’t been there, I imagine Ethan would’ve killed Cassian that night. It’d definitely have been something Cassian would’ve felt he deserved.”

_“Kin killing… It is the worst possible crime on Fest, to Festians. Irredeemable. Primeval. A murder with no possible vengeance. A defeat of legacy.”_

She wonders if Cassian counts the murder of Sebastian Bain as another act of kin killing, because it sounds like Sebastian Bain was someone Cassian had loved like a brother. She wonders if he finds it a worse crime.

Because unlike Zeferino, Sebastian Bain had not been an Imperial, not really.

Because unlike Zeferino, Sebastian Bain was a child.

“Ethan left the Rebellion, after?” Jyn summarizes.

“Resigned the next day,” Asori confirms. “Told me he couldn’t… Couldn’t handle staying and fighting for the cause, not when the same cause had killed his brother. At the time, he told me he wouldn’t out Cassian to the Empire, as the spy Joreth Sward. He said it was a thank you to Cassian, for four years of friendship. And I thought he was only refraining because he knew that he’d end up outing himself, too, but…”

“But what?”

“I ran into Ethan, a couple of years ago,” Asori says. “And he told me that he’d been sorry to hear that Joreth Sward had died in the Galactic Opera House. He’d assumed, fairly, that Cassian had been killed then, too. I didn’t tell him that Cassian had decided to leave Coruscant, and so the Empire had come to the conclusion that Joreth Sward had died in the bombing.”

“But he was still sorry to think that Cassian had died?” Jyn asks, that familiar ache of hope growing in her chest.

“I wouldn’t read too much into it,” Asori says, face doubtful. “Ethan has made it clear that he’s caught Cassian Andor. Not Joreth Sward. He knows exactly who he is. He’s still going to kill him.” Asori sighs. “He’s finally going to get that revenge for Sebastian, seven years later. I can’t kriffing believe it.”

Jyn considers this.

“Does it say where?”

“I’m sorry?” Asori frowns, turning back to Jyn.

Jyn stares at Asori, leveling her chin. “Does it say where Cassian is? Where he’s… Where he’s supposed to be executed?”

“Oh, Jyn,” Asori says, and that sorrowful look is back in her eyes, and she’s shaking her head. “There isn’t anything that can be done. We need to leave, we need to tell the Alliance--”

“No,” Jyn says, and she surprises both of them with the vehemence in her voice.

“No,” Jyn repeats. “You need to leave, Asori, because Ethan Bain knows that Cassian used to be Joreth Sward, and he’s probably told the Empire this, too. So you can’t do anything more. Because Cassian said the Coruscant Rebellion cannot survive without you. But I can do more, for him, because the Alliance can survive without me.”

Asori watches Jyn as she speaks, her face inscrutable.

“Cassian always goes back for me,” Jyn says. “He always has, since I met him. And I… it’s my turn. To go back for him. When the odds are saying there’s no chance, when I know I might die trying. Because he would do the same for me. Because he already _has_. So I; I’m going to. So can you tell me where he is at this very moment, or not?”

Asori stares at Jyn, and Jyn stares back.

Then, slowly, a smile spreads over the older woman’s face.

“You’re willing to try to save him, even if it means you get caught and killed, too?” Asori checks.

“Yes.”

Asori nods, still smiling.

“You know exactly why you fight, and what you fight for, don’t you, Jyn Erso?”

“Yes,” Jyn says, because she always has known what she fights for.

Her priorities have changed, recently, and somewhat; she fights with the Alliance now.

But she’s always known exactly _why_ she fights.

“Cassian tends to forget that, I think,” Asori murmurs. “Why he fights. He just knows he does, knows there isn’t anything else for him. I am very glad he has you now, Jyn. He needs that reminder. He needs you.”

“I need him, too,” Jyn says, and this is the truth.

The Alliance can survive without Jyn.

And Jyn can survive without Cassian.

She’s done it for most of her twenty-two years, and she knows she could do it again.

She just doesn’t want to.

“Good,” Asori says. She turns back to the datapad, flicking through it. A moment later, her smile vanishes, replaced by a dismayed frown.

“What is it?” Jyn asks, heart sinking. “It doesn’t say where he is?”

“No. No, it… It does.”

“Okay,” Jyn says. “Where is he?”

Asori looks up at Jyn. “Lemniscate.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s an Imperial prison,” Asori replies. “In the Underworld. Built for the Empire. Cassian has been there before.”

“Why?”

“To execute twenty prisoners,” Asori murmurs. “With a sniper rifle. For practice.”

Jyn knows she shouldn’t still be able to be shocked, going off the dizzying number of revelations she’s dealt with just today, but somehow finds it in her to take this information in with more muted horror.

“He was seventeen,” Asori says. “He had an instructor at the Academy who took a shine to him, thought he had a lot of potential. Which was true, of course. Anyway, he took Cassian on as a protege, taught him how to use a sniper rifle, and brought him to the prison for practice. It… It’s something I don’t think Cassian has ever fully gotten over. He waited almost half a year to tell me about it.”

Jyn closes her eyes.

For a moment, all she can see is Cassian on Eadu, with a sniper rifle, ready to kill her father.

But he didn’t do it.

He didn’t kill Galen Erso.

He had every reason to, every chance, and he… He didn’t.

He decided to be better, to believe in something more.

To have hope.

_“Are you with me?”_

Jyn opens her eyes again.

“How do I get there?”

 

* * *

 

Asori prepares Jyn as best she can.

They return to the base of the Coruscant Rebellion, and Jyn notices how Asori’s second-in-command stares, but doesn’t comment, as Asori walks with Jyn through the corridors. At the least, Asori won’t be here long; she’s only here to try to help Jyn figure out how to get into Lemniscate, and then Asori will go to a safehouse, until Jyn messages her.

Either with the best news, or the worst news.

Asori gives Jyn the all-black uniform of an Imperial security guard; it looks very much like the same outfit Jyn wore on Scarif, and she almost wants to laugh at the irony of it all.

Cassian is not with her now.

“Walk straight-backed,” Asori says. “Be confident; or at least, _act_ confident. That’s key; if you look like you know what you’re doing, that you should be there, then everyone else will think so, too. Walk like… Walk like Cassian. He’s still got that posture and demeanor he learned at the Academy.”

Jyn nods, knowing exactly what Asori means.

Asori hands her a towel, and tells her to wipe off the makeup around her eyes.

“That isn’t Imperial-regulation,” Asori says. “It makes you a very obvious fraud. And brush your hair, and tie it back more neatly. The length is fine, but it cannot be messy. You’ll stick out right away, otherwise.”

Asori’s hair is sleek, not a single strand out of place, and her makeup is clean and carefully applied.

Jyn doesn’t hesitate to follow her instructions.

Asori digs out a map of Lemniscate.

“They’re executing him in about two hours,” she says, checking the chronometer on the wall. “So he’ll be waiting in death row. This is actually a bit of a lucky break; it’s minimally guarded.”

“ _Minimally_ guarded? Why?”

“Because executions are only scheduled three hours ahead of time. No one attempts a rescue with a tight deadline like that.” Asori smiles. “Well… _Almost_ no one.”

Jyn swallows hard.

She knows this is a ridiculous plan, that this is barely a plan at all.

But Scarif was the same; ridiculous, wild, opportunistic.

She feels like she has everything to lose, again, too.

“He wouldn’t be Cassian Andor if he wasn’t about to die,” Asori says, smirking, and Jyn suspects this is Asori’s way of comforting her. “I think we can call it his default state, at this point. Always about to die. Just don’t let him get shot again, there aren’t any kriffing Angels around to save him this time.”

“Any _what?”_

Jyn stares at Asori, mouth agape.

“Aw, kriff,” Asori mutters. “You don’t know about Iego?”

“I know… I know Cassian was shot there,” Jyn says, remembering Kes’ references to Iego, and then Asori and Cassian’s conversation the day before.

_“I maintain my belief that Iego wasn’t that close.”_

_“Three blaster shots to the chest and coding twice in a medical center on Jabiim is the very definition of incredibly close, Cassian, don’t be ridiculous.”_

“It’s a very long, very absurd story,” Asori says. “Most of what I know of it comes from the report Cassian filed four months later, when he woke from a damn coma. All I know is, his kriffing droid turned on him, and--”

“Wait. What droid?”

“That Imperial droid he reprogrammed here. I can’t remember its designation. But it went with Rogue One to Scarif, I believe.”

“K-2SO,” Jyn says, voice a whisper.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. K-2SO shot Cassian three times on Iego. Damn near killed him.”

Jyn thinks of all the things she’s learned this week, and decides that this notion that _K-2SO_ almost killed _Cassian_ is the most preposterous. The least believable.

K-2SO had died for Cassian on Scarif. He’d looked to Cassian for advice, for direction, on Jedha. He’d followed Cassian’s instructions on Eadu. He’d gone with them to Scarif, because Cassian had told him to.

And K-2SO had loved Taraja, and mourned her, right alongside Cassian.

Jyn has no doubts that K-2SO had loved Cassian, too.

Yet she remembers what Kes said, of Cassian and K-2SO having a _complicated relationship_.

“But… _Why?_ ” Jyn asks, when she can speak.

“We never really figured it out,” Asori says, frowning. “I think the official reason the Alliance came up with is that something about Iego messed with the droid’s programming. You’ve heard of Iego, right?”

Jyn nods. Iego is a bit of a myth, a legend, of a planet. A place where time passes differently (or, according to some reports, not at all) and where people disappear. A place where mysterious, ethereal beings called Angels live.

“The Angels of Iego saved Cassian?” She asks now.

“Yeah, we’re pretty confident about that,” Asori says. “Because Cassian reported seeing, and speaking to, an Angel before he was shot, and then seeing a very bright, white light right after he was shot, just before he passed out. The next thing any of us knew, he was in a medical center on Jabiim, in a coma. Our best guess is that an Angel took him there, but… Well. Who knew they could travel that far, like that, so quickly.”

Jabiim is another planet, about half an hour away from Iego, if you travel by ship.

“Yeah,” Jyn breathes.

“The point is,” Asori says, straightening her shoulders, “That Cassian Andor has a long history of almost dying, and coming back. The Opera House, Iego, and Scarif, and probably other times that I don’t know, or want to know, about. The point is that he’s a survivor. He can survive this, too. So just… Help him, Jyn.”

Jyn looks at Asori, meeting her sharp hazel eyes.

She wishes she felt more confident.

She thinks she can fake it, at least.

Asori sees as much in her expression.

“Good,” she says. “Good luck, Jyn Erso. And tell Cassian to call me when you succeed.”

 

* * *

 

Jyn has done a lot of, arguably, stupid things in her life. Good intentioned things, but stupid nonetheless.

She’s pretty sure that breaking into Lemniscate, to rescue a prisoner on death row, is an excellent candidate for the stupidest thing she’s ever done.

Going to Scarif to steal the Death Star plans would be the only thing that might top it.

She takes an elevator to Level 1238 of the Underworld, over a hundred levels below the Coruscant Rebellion base, and so she puts on the breath mask Asori had given her before she steps outside. The air down here is too polluted to be breathed without one, and her eyes sting a little at the noxious smog, as she walks down the dark streets, her black uniform all but camouflaging her completely.

Lemniscate is huge, and terrifying, just from the outside, and Jyn expects it is similarly terrifying inside. The building is solidly black, blending into the Underworld just like Jyn, but whereas Jyn fights the darkness encroaching around her, she gets the feeling that the black stone prison was really built _for_ it.

She stares up at the thing, takes a breath, and remembers the building map, the layout that Asori had shown her, and talked her through.

She rolls her shoulders back, takes another breath, and closes her eyes.

She adopts a new persona, of someone with more confidence, more assurance. More sympathy for the Empire. Less empathy for others.

The next few minutes happen in flashes.

(She will only remember a handful of images, later.)

(Like the dark hallways of Lemniscate.)

(Like the frigidity of the air, a cold that is not dissimilar to Fest temperature-wise, but so different in all other aspects.)

(Like the IT-O interrogator droid that passes her, a bloodstained needle hanging off its side.)

(Like the screaming, the endless screaming, coming from all directions.)

She makes her way through long, freezing hallways, until she reaches death row.

Asori had told her that no other executions are scheduled for today, and the wing is minimally guarded, as Asori had said, with only a couple deathtroopers.

Jyn takes them out with little trouble, and hides the bodies in a maintenance supplies closet.

It isn’t pleasant, but it’ll work.

She steels herself, and walks inside.

The wing is smaller than others she’s glimpsed. It is very dark, like the rest of the prison, the only lights coming in uneven intervals, and flickering, like they’re about to go off, a technical maneuver she expects is used to psychologically torture inmates.

She keeps her steps light, and it is so, so quiet.

The cells here do not have bars, but rather, single glass windows looking into them, from floor to ceiling. Each cell is completely dark, and empty, and her anxiety mounts as she doesn’t see anyone, and she begins to worry that either Cassian is not here, or, worse, that he has already been taken to the executioner, and she’s entirely too late.

But then she reaches the cell at the end of the block, and almost sobs with relief.

Because behind the tall clear glass, inside the dark cell, sitting against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest, is Cassian.

He’s staring straight at her.

She can see the shock in his face, his eyes wide, even with the minimal light.

“Cassian,” she hisses.

Slowly, he gets to his feet.

She sees that he’s shaky, and she spots needle marks lining his arms, and she thinks of the IT-O interrogator droid, and neurotoxins, and her stomach rolls.

“Cassian,” Jyn repeats, voice a little louder.

He walks to her, and he is so close, so close, just on the other side of the glass.

“Wait,” she hisses, but he keeps walking to her.

She lifts her blaster, pointing it to the glass.

But Cassian starts shaking his head, and waving his arms, and he walks right up to the glass, pressing his bare hands against it.

“Don’t,” he says, and his voice is almost enough to derail her; there’d been a period, recently, where she’d thought she’d never hear it again. “Don’t. It isn’t glass, it’s… It’s something tougher. The shot will ricochet, and it will hit you, and it won’t break the window.”

“Okay, okay,” Jyn says. “Let me think, let me--”

“I can’t hear you.”

She freezes, and stares up at him.

“You can hear me,” Cassian continues. “Because the guards here want to be able to hear everything that goes on inside the cells. But I can’t hear you, because the guards don’t want the prisoners to hear anything. What they’re saying, or planning. It keeps the prisoners isolated, and completely alone. So I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I _said_ ,” Jyn says, and she speaks more slowly, mouthing the words carefully, hoping he can read her lips. “That I need to think. Give me a minute.”

“No,” Cassian says, shaking his head again. “You shouldn’t have come here. You need to go.”

“Like hell--”

“I’m sorry, for hitting you,” Cassian says suddenly, his face twisting. “I was trying to distract the Imperials, to get them away from you, and I thought that if I hit you, they’d think we weren’t together. It did work, but I feel… I feel very badly, about it.”

Jyn is already shaking her head. “No, no, it’s fine, Cass. I know why you did it, it’s okay.”

“Good. I’m glad. Is… Is _she_ safe?”

And Jyn knows he means Asori, suspects he doesn’t name her because he thinks there might be a listening device somewhere nearby.

“Yes,” Jyn says, and Cassian almost sags with relief.

Her eyes flicker from his face, to the needle marks dotting his arms.

“Thank you,” he says. “The man who caught me; his name is Ethan Bain, and I used to be his best friend--”

“I know,” Jyn says, still over-exaggerating her words, so Cassian can understand her. “She told me about him.”

Cassian’s eyes darken, and he looks pained, so pained.

“Then you know what I did to him.”

“It was justified,” Jyn says.

“No, it wasn’t. I like to think it was, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t _right_. Sebastian… He was a child. He didn’t deserve to die. He was naive, but he wasn’t bad.” Cassian looks down at the floor. “It makes sense that this is the crime I finally answer for.”

“No,” Jyn says quickly, though Cassian doesn’t look up, because he can’t hear her.

She holsters her blaster, and puts her gloved hands on the glass, mirroring his.

Cassian notices the movement, and looks at her again.

“You don’t deserve to die,” Jyn says. “Please, don’t--”

“J--” Cassian starts, and stops, and bites his lip, and she knows he thinks he can’t say her name because the Empire might hear it, might listen to whatever is recording their conversation later and realize Jyn Erso was here, was on Coruscant, might _still_ be on Coruscant, and might try to hunt her down.

He can’t say her name, and she thinks she’s never wanted to hear him say her name more.

“There isn’t anything you can do,” Cassian says. “Listen. They’re going to be here any minute. There is no time. You have to run, while you still can, before they realize you’re here.”

“ _Cass_ \--”

“I am very glad I got to see you again,” he says, voice sharp, and Jyn hates the smile he’s giving her now, hates how bright his eyes are, even here, in this miserable, gloomy place, hates how he’s just _looking at her_ like that. “I am very… I’m happy that you tried. Tried to save me. _Thank_ _you_.”

“No,” Jyn says, and she smacks her hand against the glass, because she is so furious, so angry with him, that he’s doing this, that he’s saying goodbye.

“Tell… Tell my pottery friends that I’m very grateful for their friendship--”

“Cassian--”

“Give Leia the Alderaanian brandy under my bed, it was going to be a birthday present for her--”

“ _Cassian_ \--”

“And remember that I loved you, okay? You must remember this.”

Jyn stares at him, and feels her lip trembling.

He’s told her that he loves her frequently in the last few days, but he’s told her as much without words, everyday, in the six months prior, almost since the day they first met.

“You must remember this,” Cassian says again. “It’s very easy to forget things like this, and I need you to remember, okay? Promise me that you’re going to remember.”

“You’re not going to keep your promise to _me,_ ” Jyn says, and her voice rises with her anger, and she doesn’t speak as slowly, but Cassian seems to understand her anyway.

Because he’s always understood her.

She’s sure that this is the thought that breaks her heart.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I guess… I guess all the way, for me, ends here. You can keep going though, okay? You can get out of here. There’s no point in you dying here. There is so much left for you to do, for the Alliance, for the galaxy. I won’t forgive myself if I have to watch you die here, in this place.” He looks at her, hardening his gaze. “Do not let me think that you did not leave here. Do _not_ make me watch you die in here. Don’t you dare.”

She’s fighting herself, telling herself not to cry, telling herself to _think_ , because Cassian is right, they are running out of time, but if she can just think, maybe she can remember something--

But she can hear movement, slowly getting louder, coming closer.

They are out of time.

“I love you,” Cassian says, again. “Now go. Please. For me. _Go_.”

“Cass,” she breathes, and he’s staring at her, and their hands are still mirroring each other’s, that sheet of glass between them, and his arms are covered in needle marks and he looks exhausted and he’s going to die and he’s the most extraordinary thing she’s ever seen in her life.

She swallows.

She can hear the synchronized steps from stormtroopers, and Cassian turns his head, looking to the back of his cell, and she realizes that the squad that is coming to take him to his death will be coming through the back of his cell, that they won’t be taking him out the way she came in.

She realizes that this sheet of glass was never a door; it was only ever a window.

She realizes that she cannot save him.

Cassian realizes this too, and he turns back to look at her.

He smiles at her, and she realizes that he’s trying to comfort her, even though he is the one who is trapped, even though he is the one who is going to be executed in this miserable place.

She stares at him, her fingers moving frantically against the glass, trying to touch him.

She wishes she could comfort him.

She wishes he wasn’t dying alone.

They are out of time.

There is only one thing left for her to do.

He can’t hear her anyway, and so she mouths the words, like she practiced the night before.

“ _I love you_. _”_

His eyes widen, and she knows he’s understood her.

Even though he can’t hear her.

Even though she’s a mess. Even though she doesn’t know how to love anyone.

Even though she’s not someone who is easily trusted.

Even though she’s not someone who is easily understood.

Even though she’s barely had time to understand him.

He’s always understood her, and always loved her.

 _You must remember this_ , she thinks. _You must remember him_.

“ _Go_ ,” he mouths, smiling still, and she doesn’t know how she does it, but she does.

She goes.

She peels her hands off the glass, and she walks away, hiding in the shadows just yards away, pressing her back to the wall, blending into the darkness of the space, finally letting herself be smothered by the darkness of the prison.

She is desperate for comfort though, and so she grabs for her kyber crystal, still around her neck.

Cassian doesn’t look at her, but instead, turns around, his back to her, to watch as a secret door in the back of his cell opens, revealing a man in a gray Imperial officer’s uniform, and four deathtroopers.

She doesn’t breathe as the man in the gray Imperial officer’s uniform, the same man from CoCo Town, the man called Ethan Bain, Cassian Andor’s ex-best friend, steps into the cell, and stares at Cassian.

They’re close to being the same height; Cassian might be slightly taller.

They look very different, with Bain in his Imperial uniform, with his cleanliness, his light hair and blue eyes, compared to Cassian in his tan-colored Alliance clothes, a sheet of grime from the prison and the Underworld coating him, covering his dark hair and dark eyes.

Cassian stares back at Ethan Bain, and he doesn’t flinch.

“Ready, Cassian?” Ethan Bain asks, and his voice sounds so nonchalant, and Jyn feels fury spike in her, red hot fury, the kind of fury she once only had for the man in white.

It is a voice that taunts, that invites scorn, but Cassian has always been better than her, and so he doesn’t rise to the bait.

He keeps his chin high, and he says, “I’m ready, Ethan.”

She sees the deathtroopers exchange glances, likely confused by how this death row prisoner knows their superior officer’s first name, how he feels comfortable calling the officer by it.

Jyn waits for Ethan Bain to retaliate for the indignity.

But he doesn’t. He only nods.

He holds his hand towards the open door.

“Let’s go,” he says.

Jyn can’t breathe.

She stares hard at Cassian, at the back of his head, and she begs him to turn around and look for her, one more time.

She thinks of Cassian telling her about the day Taraja died, how he’d been stabbed, how he’d thought he was going to die, and so he looked for Taraja in the chaos, because he wanted to see her one last time.

 _Look at me, look at me_ , she says to herself, and it’s a prayer, and she could almost swear that the kyber crystal in her hand warms.

And Cassian’s head does turn slightly, towards her, enough for her to see the side of his face, to memorize his profile, his slightly crooked nose, the side of his beard, one dark eye.

He can’t see her in the dark, she knows, and she thinks that’s for the best.

He won’t see her crying, then.

She watches as Cassian turns away, as he walks ahead of Ethan Bain, as he walks straight-backed and proud, out of the cell.

As he walks to his death.

She waits until the door slams closed before she falls to her knees, before she feels the grief overwhelm her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY HAS A HAPPY ENDING.
> 
> This is a terrible cliffhanger, so I'm uploading the next chapter today as well.
> 
> "First Memory" by Louise Glück, one of my all-time favorite poets, appears in her collection ARARAT.
> 
> The television show LOST was on during my formative years and the glass window thing was definitely inspired by scenes from Season 3.
> 
> Ethan Bain is an Original Character. Lemniscate was a real Old EU Imperial prison, somewhere in the Coruscant Underworld. The Angels, and Iego, are canon, although the way I wrote/described them in GRAY AREAS, and here, is more Old EU, in that they are more angelic and Mysterious and Know Things and Not Human, more so than the impression I got about them from their appearance in THE CLONE WARS.
> 
> Just to be clear, Cassian names Leia because the Empire is very aware of her rebel status at this point, lol. Shara and Kes, likely not so much. and the Empire might not know Jyn is alive, so.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She throws the sheet back up, and grabs Cassian’s wrist, wrapping her hand around it, pressing her fingers to his pulse point.
> 
> And there, sure enough, so slow and light she could breathe and miss it, is Cassian’s pulse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter I've added today, so make sure you've read Chapter Six or this will not make any sense!
> 
> Also this story does end happily!

 

_Memory_

_isn’t a sin so long as it does some good._

 

-Eugenio Montale, from “Voice Arriving With the Coots”

 

* * *

 

Jyn doesn’t remember leaving Lemniscate.

She doesn’t remember how she walks back through death row, back down the halls of the prison, past the screams and the droids, through the dark.

All she knows is that she does, because she finds herself standing outside, in the street, and is startled by the rain falling onto her face.

Rain in the Coruscant Underworld is dreary, because it mostly slips and slides from level to level, in an entirely unpleasant gray sludge. She knows the rain is leaving marks on her face, knows it’s staining the borrowed black Imperial uniform, but finds she cannot get herself to move.

She’s in shock, she knows.

She’s seen it before.

Cassian Andor is dead.

 _I loved him_ , she thinks, and she knows that it’s true, that she must remember it, but knows she can never say it outloud.

She knew this mission, this attempt to rescue him, was foolhardy, was likely impossible, but she still hadn’t even entertained the notion that she might fail. That she’d be too late, or too slow, or not smart enough. That he would die.

Cassian, she has learned in the last few days, is the consummate survivor.

She’s not sure how the universe can still exist without him in it.

She thinks of Asori Joshi, waiting in her safehouse, and Jyn knows what she must tell her, and so she tries the words out, mouths them, there on the street.

 _Cassian Andor is dead_.

Jyn closes her eyes.

She knows it’s enough to break Asori’s heart, and she does not want to be the one to tell her.

But she will.

She has to, because Asori had loved Cassian, and she knows Asori would want to know when he’d died.

Jyn would want to know, as well.

So that’s the next step: telling Asori Joshi that her protege, her dear friend, is dead.

But Jyn can’t move.

The rain splatters against her face.

 _What would Cassian do_ , she thinks. If she had died, and Cassian had survived; what would he do?

She blinks, and remembers what Cassian did after Taraja died.

_“Here,” he says, nodding, standing in the bright orange sand, the red sun behind him. “We… She was in a gray box, and we set it on fire, here, until she was nothing but ashes. And then we stood there, where you are now, and we watched the ashes scatter, into the sand, and the sky.”_

He took her home, back to Mantooine, and put her to rest.

She remembers that he’d wanted the same done for him.

_“My mother had to basically fight the Republic to send his ashes to us. She was adamant; she was strong. But she cried. It was the first and only time I ever saw her cry. Still, her efforts were rewarded. They sent him back to us in a gray steel box, and we buried him here, because we bury our dead on Fest.”_

_He looks at Jyn._

_“Please remember that, okay? I don’t… If you… If it--”_

_“I know,” Jyn murmurs._

She’d promised him, then, so very recently, that if he died before her, she’d take his body back to Fest, and bury him under the snow and ice, next to his parents and his sister, his dead family, the family he loved the most, on the planet he loved the most.

Jyn blinks.

That’s something she can do.

She can take him home.

She takes a breath, wipes the gray rainwater out of her eyes, and then begins to walk, going around the back of the prison.

She doesn’t know what the Empire does with the bodies of the prisoners it executes. She doesn’t know if they incinerate them on site, or transport them elsewhere, or if there is a mass grave somewhere in the bowels of the Coruscant Underworld.

She’ll have to wait, and see.

The back of the prison is basically one large depot, with high-security transports and unmarked shuttles waiting in the loading area. Jyn loiters across the street, crouching in a dark alcove that used to be the entrance to some kind of brothel, going by the fading letters on the peeling sign. She blends into the dark, and she stays low to the ground, keeping her eyes locked on the doors leading in and out of the prison.

She is nervous, but she is not afraid.

She will do this one last thing for Cassian.

She abandoned him earlier; she won’t do it again, not now.

She does not have to wait long.

After about fifteen minutes, Jyn watches as Ethan Bain, in his gray Imperial officer’s uniform, his face smooth and blank, walks out of the prison, while a man in a black jumpsuit walks behind him, pushing a gurney covered in a sheet.

Jyn’s breath catches at the sight.

She stares hard at the gurney, but she can’t see any part of the body under the sheet.

She’s quite certain she doesn’t need to; she knows exactly who it is.

Ethan Bain and the man in the jumpsuit go to one of the shuttles lining the building. Ethan Bain moves around to the front of the shuttle, and climbs in, while the other man rolls the gurney up the ramp leading into the shuttle, pushing the gurney inside.

When the man comes back out, and begins to walk back to the prison, Jyn makes her move.

She sprints across the street.

The ramp of the shuttle is beginning to close, but she throws herself at it fearlessly, snagging the end with her hands, and using her arms, and sheer force of will, she heaves herself over the edge, rolling down the ramp on the other side, landing with a soft thud inside the shuttle.

She lies still on the floor for a moment, holding her breath.

But the engine only rumbles; Ethan Bain has not heard her.

Jyn looks up, and sees that the inside of the shuttle is small, only ten feet by ten feet or so. The inside is that ever-present Imperial gray, suffocating everything, voiding any opportunity of any warm color. She looks towards the front of the shuttle, and sees two seats before the glass window at the front, sees Ethan Bain sitting in the pilot’s chair, unaware of the very alive stowaway in the back.

The very alive stowaway, who is now staring at the gurney that takes up most of the space in the shuttle.

Jyn gets to her feet, just as the shuttle begins to move, lifting off, Ethan Bain piloting.

She steps forward, silently, and stops next to the gurney.

She steels herself, and then she pulls the sheet back.

It’s Cassian.

His eyes are closed, and he’s still wearing his Alliance clothes, and he looks like he could be sleeping, save for the fact that his chest is not moving.

She pulls the sheet further back, and sees that his left sleeve has been rolled up, and that there is a prominent dark mark in his arm, a much bigger injection mark than the lighter needle marks that litter his arm. This injection was heavy. It was a lethal one.

Jyn reaches forward, tugging her gloves off, and grazes her fingers across his forehead, brushing his hair out of his closed eyes.

He’s still warm.

He hasn’t been dead for long.

She closes her eyes for a moment, giving herself a chance to breathe, to grieve.

She thinks of Cassian, of all the work he has done in his twenty-six years. She thinks of his childhood, as a soldier on Fest, and his adolescence, as a spy for the Rebellion on Coruscant. She thinks of his adulthood, as an Intelligence officer for the Alliance, culminating six months ago with the theft of the Death Star plans.

She thinks of how well-liked he is among the rebels of the Alliance, of how beloved he is to Travia Chan and Asori Joshi. She thinks of the child soldiers of Fest who clamored around him, and of the legacy he leaves behind with them, the hope for a free future.

“You’ve done enough, Cassian,” she whispers, so softly that Ethan Bain, just feet away from her, cannot hear her over the rumble of the shuttle’s engine.

It is not something she says for the living to hear; for her or Ethan Bain.

It is something for the dead to hear; for the dead man lying on the gurney.

Because it was what Cassian had said to Taraja as she died, and it was what he’d told Jyn he’d want to hear before he died.

She’s too late. Telling him now, it isn’t enough, but it will have to do.

Cassian is dead, but she is convinced, knows with _certainty_ , that he’s heard her.

He’s dead, but he won’t have left her. Not really.

_“You can hear them?”_

_“All the time. Ezza and Tara climbed the data tower on Scarif with me. My father told me to be good, and my mother told me she was proud of me, on Eadu. I know they’re dead, Jyn. But I can still hear them.”_

She doesn’t wait to hear his voice. She doesn’t think she could handle it right now.

Not with all she has to do.

She opens her eyes, pulls the sheet back over Cassian’s body, and looks to the front of the shuttle.

In the next moment, she’s moving, and has her blaster pressed to the back of Ethan Bain’s head.

He gasps, loudly, and freezes.

“Land this shuttle,” Jyn says, and her voice is hard, and she doesn’t sound like herself. If anything, she sounds a little like Cassian, before she really knew him, when he yelled at her on Eadu.

Ethan Bain swallows, and turns his head slightly, so as to see her, in her stolen Imperial security uniform.

“Who are you?” He asks, and she thinks this is entirely unimportant.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says. “You’re going to land this transport.”

“And then what? You kill me?”

“Yes,” Jyn says, because she sees no point in lying; Ethan Bain is surely smart enough to know this could go no other way.

She is very much looking forward to killing him.

Ethan Bain looks at her. “Are you a rebel?”

“Do Imperials frequently hijack Imperial ships?” Jyn asks, sardonicism dripping from her tone.

Ethan Bain’s next words surprise her.

“Do you know Asori Joshi?”

Jyn frowns. “Why does that matter?”

“I have to take Joreth--sorry, Cassian--to Asori Joshi,” Ethan Bain says.

Jyn stares at him.

This is the man who has killed Cassian, who is now insisting he has to deliver Cassian’s corpse to Asori.

The only reason Jyn can come up for this is to taunt Asori, to hurt her, to show her who she has lost.

“I think you’ve done enough,” Jyn snarls, digging her blaster more forcefully into the back of Ethan Bain’s head.

“Hey, hey, _wait_ ,” Ethan Bain says, speaking quickly now. “I have to take him _somewhere_ , he’s gonna wake up in like half an hour and he’s definitely not going to want to be anywhere near me then.”

Silence falls.

Jyn stares at Ethan Bain, and he stares back at her.

The shuttle is still flying, moving over buildings, climbing upwards level by level, towards the surface of the planet.

Cassian’s body is still on the gurney behind them.

“He’s… He’s dead,” Jyn says.

“Oh, kriff,” Ethan breathes. “You don’t know, of course. No. No, he isn’t.”

“He isn’t breathing, I saw--”

“No, he’s just breathing really, really slowly, and softly,” Ethan Bain says, shaking his head. “I doubt you could tell just from looking at him. Go touch his wrist, you’ll find his pulse.”

Jyn wonders if this is some kind of trick.

But she’s too desperate, too grief-stricken, too shocked to really try and think it through.

She turns, and darts back to Cassian’s side.

She throws the sheet back up, and grabs Cassian’s wrist, wrapping her hand around it, pressing her fingers to his pulse point.

And there, sure enough, so slow and light she could breathe and miss it, is Cassian’s pulse.

 _He’s still alive_.

She sobs a little, in sheer relief, and drops her other hand to his chest.

She can feel his heart beating, so quietly, so slowly.

“See?” Ethan Bain calls from the front. “That’s why I’m looking for Asori. She’ll take him. And, hopefully, tell him to get the hell away from Coruscant. I don’t know why he’s here, but it was a stupid thing to do. Jor used to be smarter than that.”

“He came here for me,” Jyn says, shaking a little with the relief, with the overwhelming spectrum of emotions she’s experienced in the last few minutes.

Ethan Bain raises his eyebrows at her.

“Okay,” he says. “Still, it was a very moronic thing to do. Can you get him the hell out of here?”

“We have a ship,” Jyn says.

“Okay, good,” Ethan Bain says. “I’ll give you a lift to it.”

 _Good_ , Jyn thinks, and stares at the mysterious man in the gray Imperial officer’s uniform.

Under her hand, impossibly, Cassian breathes.

 

* * *

 

She directs Ethan Bain to the Port on the surface, where the ship she and Cassian took to Coruscant still waits, entirely empty now, with Asori in her safehouse.

Jyn has no idea where to begin with her message to Asori.

She thinks about Asori, and Cassian, and Ethan Bain, as she and Ethan Bain push the gurney carrying Cassian into the ship.

Night has fallen over Coruscant, and no one sees them.

“He’ll wake up in about fifteen minutes,” Ethan Bain says, inside the ship. “And he’ll probably be disoriented, so keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t try to get up too quickly.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s this coma experiment,” Ethan Bain says. “Imperial scientists have been working on it for years. It’s a biological weapon, so I’ve been hearing about it at work for a while. I know how it works. The idea is to send someone into an artificial coma, indefinitely.” At Jyn’s sharp look, he quickly adds, “But they haven’t gotten it to work indefinitely yet. So Cassian is going to wake up. I gave him barely anything, just enough to knock him out for an hour or so. To make it look like he’d died.”

Jyn swallows. “What happened in there?”

Ethan sighs, and looks towards the open door of the ship.

“Can we close the door, first? I doubt anyone’s gonna walk past, but… The Empire can’t know I’m here. Or that Cassian is, for that matter.”

Jyn nods, and closes the door. Ethan sits on the long bench seat against the wall of the ship, while Jyn stands in front of him, leaning against Cassian’s leg, holding Cassian’s hand in hers, keeping her finger on his still beating pulse.

“It was going to be a lethal injection,” Ethan says. “Very quick, near painless. The solution is a clear liquid; pretty easy to fake with saline and a few drops of the coma drug, which is why I made the call to kill Cassian Andor via lethal injection, rather than execution by blaster.”

“You saved him.”

“I did.”

“Why?” Jyn asks. “Asori said you wouldn’t. She said you hated him, that Cassian killed your brother, that you left the Rebellion--”

“That’s mostly true,” Ethan says. “But I don’t hate him. I tried, but… I never could.”

He stares at Cassian’s face, and there is something in his expression that Jyn recognizes.

Herself.

“You love him,” she whispers. “You’re in love with him.”

Ethan blinks, and looks up at her.

“You’re quick,” he says. “Or, you… You are, too. What’s your name?”

“Jyn.”

Ethan holds out his hand, and Jyn takes it.

“Hi, Jyn,” he says. “I’m Ethan Bain.”

“I know,” Jyn says, a little unnecessarily. “Asori told me about you.”

“Cassian didn’t?”

“He was working up to it,” Jyn says. “We… We haven’t been together for very long, and so he’s… He’s trying to introduce himself to me. He brought me here, to see the Rebellion he worked in, to meet Asori. I think he wanted to tell me about you, too, but he couldn’t… I don’t think he knew how.”

“We didn’t part on good terms,” Ethan says. “And it’s been a while.”

“Seven years,” Jyn says.

Ethan nods, looking back at Cassian. “Yeah. Seven years. He looks a lot different. Not a _bad_ different, but… He looks older. Still ridiculously cute, but that beard ages him.” He shrugs, and repeats, “Seven years. And I’ve thought he was dead for the last six or so, since I read the report that Joreth Sward died in the Galactic Opera House. I ran into Asori a couple years ago, but she didn’t correct me. Guess she thought I didn’t need to know he was alive. I don’t blame her.”

“Does…” Jyn bites her lip. “Does Cassian know…?”

“Know that I was in love with him during our entire friendship?” Ethan asks. Jyn nods. Ethan shakes his head, smiling a little. “No, I don’t think he did. Cassian is very smart, is very good at reading people, but I kind of… I basically loved him the second I met him, so there wasn’t really anything for him to note. No change, or anything like that. And he was comfortable around me, and I was always honest with him, so I don’t think he ever tried too hard to read me like he did other people, Imperials, and other cadets, and whatnot.”

“Oh,” Jyn says.

“Wada knew, though. Do you know who Wada was?”

She nods. “Cassian’s Rodian friend from Fest.”

“Yeah,” Ethan says. “Wada knew right away. I don’t… I’m not entirely sure how he knew, but he did. He told me to be careful, because Cassian wouldn’t, uh. Wouldn’t love me back. Not that way, at least. I’m pretty sure he loved me like a brother.”

“Asori said so,” Jyn says.

“We were really close,” Ethan agrees. “Joreth--sorry, Cassian--was my best friend for the full four years we knew each other, at the Academy, and then after. I keep calling him Joreth because that was the name I knew him as, most of those years. He didn’t tell me his real name until just before Sebastian died. Like a month before. But I knew Joreth Sward wasn’t his real name a couple years before that. I didn’t ask, though; I thought he’d tell me when he was ready, and he did.” Ethan shrugs. “It was basically too late. It didn’t end up meaning anything.”

Jyn frowns. “But… It did. He told you his real name, and it sounds like it wasn’t something he did often.”

Ethan nods, slowly. “Yeah, not a lot of people knew. The only one who did, for sure, was Asori. And Taraja, of course.” He laughs, and looks up at Jyn. “I don’t think Taraja knew about me, either. She and Cassian were too caught up in each other to really be aware of other people, I think. Hey, what… Do you know what happened to her? Where she is?”

“She’s dead,” Jyn says. “She died in the Opera House that day.”

Ethan blinks, expression quickly turning sorrowful.

“Kriff,” he says. “Wow. I’m sorry to hear that. Makes sense, now, though; why Joreth died that day even though Cassian didn’t. If Taraja was dead, he would’ve wanted to run, to get away from here. Huh.” He nods. “When I saw Cassian again today, I couldn’t believe it. Because I’d thought he was dead, and because… Because I couldn’t understand why he would’ve _pretended_ to be dead. I’ve never seen anyone so loyal to anything, like Cassian is to the Rebellion. Especially after killing Seb, I mean… It seemed like faking Joreth Sward’s death, so soon after Seb… It would’ve been such a waste. I was pretty mad, so I didn’t hesitate to chase after him, and catch him, in CoCo Town today.”

“Did you talk to him, at all? In Lemniscate?”

“Tried to,” Ethan says, shrugging in a sad kind of way. “He wasn’t super chatty. Unsurprising. Pretty kriffing horrified to see me again. I tried to ask him how he was doing, what he’d been up to, why he was here, but, uh… He wouldn’t say anything. He thinks I’m an Imperial, so.”

“Aren’t you?”

Ethan stares up at Jyn, and once more, she sees a familiar look in his eyes.

This time, it’s a familiar pain.

The pain of someone who’d been abandoned.

She understands it, entirely.

“I work for the Empire,” Ethan says. “I’m not in the Rebellion. But I’m a source for a few rebels. I pass on intelligence when I can. I try to protect the Rebellion, as best as I can. But I can’t fight for it, not officially. Not while Asori Joshi leads it, as ruthless as she is.”

His voice is rough with bitterness, and Jyn is filled at once with sympathy.

She’d once despised the cause, too, because it’d only ever hurt her.

Like it’s hurt Ethan.

“I just…” Ethan sighs. “Cassian killed Sebastian, and I can’t forget that. My little brother, killed by my best friend, who I’d been in love with for _years_. I remember that night, I remember running into Cassian, and Taraja there on the street in front of my parents’ apartment. And Cassian was so… He knew it was awful, but he told me that it was something he’d had to do, for the Rebellion, and I just… I lost it. I attacked him. And he just let it happen. I think he wanted to die, there. I think he wasn’t sure he could live with himself.”

Jyn watches Ethan, and listens.

“He loved Seb, I know that for sure,” Ethan murmurs. “But he loved the cause more. He’s always loved the cause more, and I can’t understand that. That’s his big flaw, you know? No offense,” he adds, suddenly, peering up at Jyn. “Maybe he loves you. I don’t know. But he’s always going to love the Rebellion more. And I… I’m not sure that’s something I would’ve been able to accept.”

“I know,” Jyn says, softly.

The one defining aspect of Cassian’s life, the constant of it, is the Rebellion. The cause.

He was practically born into it, taking up the war as a young child.

He’s almost died for it, several times.

Jyn knows Cassian loves her, knows that he loved Taraja, and also knows that he loves the Rebellion more than either of them.

And she’s fine with it.

Because it’s exactly who Cassian is.

He wouldn’t be Cassian Andor without it.

“Anyway,” Ethan continues. “I was… I couldn’t stay in the Rebellion after that. Not when I’d still see Cassian, not when my brother had been killed for the cause. So I left. I stayed in Imperial Advanced Weapons Research. But I… I still didn’t _support_ the Empire. I still wanted to fight. So I pass on intelligence, little by little. It isn’t much, but it’s… It’s something.”

Jyn has been struck by something else.

“Advanced Weapons Research,” she repeats.

Advanced Weapons Research was the division her father worked in. Starting on Coruscant, and ending on Eadu.

“Yeah,” Ethan says.

“Did you… This is a longshot, but did you ever work with a man called Galen Erso?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ethan says, nodding, looking confused. “Quiet guy. But, like, really personable. He’d always ask everyone how they were doing, want to chat. He used to work here on Coruscant, in a separate division from mine, but he’d always nod at me whenever we’d pass by. I told Cassian about him, once.”

“You told Cassian about Galen Erso?”

Ethan is still frowning, still uncertain where Jyn is going with this. “Yeah. One of the last times we hung out, we talked about work, and I told him about Galen Erso, who was in this weird, off the books division of Advanced Weapons Research. I think that was all I told Cassian, though; Sebastian died a few weeks after that, so… Why do you ask?”

Jyn swallows.

The universe is very small.

“Galen Erso was my father,” she says, and she sees Ethan’s eyes widen. “He, um… He built the Death Star. And he died, six months ago.”

“Kriff,” Ethan murmurs. “Small galaxy. I’m uh… I’m sorry about your father, Jyn.”

It is an unexpectedly sweet thing to say, though if she’s learned anything in the last half an hour, it’s that Ethan Bain is far more than he appears to be.

“The Death Star, really?” Ethan asks.

“Yes.”

“I only heard about that when they trotted it out six months ago; like I said, not my division. The Alliance blew it up pretty quick.”

“Yeah,” Jyn says, smiling a little. “Thanks to Cassian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cassian led a mission to Scarif, for the plans,” Jyn says. She and Cassian have a habit of saying the other led the mission; she thinks it’s because neither of them want to take the credit for the thing, feeling like they don’t deserve any praise, feeling such guilt for all the rebels who died there. “I went with him. We stole the plans, and the Alliance used them to find a flaw, and destroy it.”

Ethan laughs.

“I’m not even surprised that Cassian did that,” he says. “He’s got a long history of doing absolutely insane things for the cause.” He looks up at Jyn. “He’s the bravest man I’ve ever known. He’s… I don’t know if he’s good, but he… He does a lot. That’s the best I can do. He does a lot, for the Rebellion.”

“Do you still love him?”

Ethan is quiet for a moment, looking at Cassian lying on the gurney.

“I got married last year,” Ethan says, unexpectedly. “His name is Tobian. He’s a History professor at the University of Coruscant. He’s got light blond hair, and dark brown eyes. He caught my attention, the first time we met, because his eyes reminded me of Cassian’s. They really don’t look anything alike, but there was something… There was a light in his eyes that was similar to Cassian.”

Ethan looks up at Jyn.

“I like my memories of Cassian,” he says. “Because I get to pick and choose which ones to remember. Which ones to keep. I keep the memories of my first love, right alongside the memories of him killing my brother. I need to remember them both. The Cassian who made my teenage years so great, and the Cassian who made them so terrible. I won’t forget him. I am… over him, for the most part, but when I saw him again today… I couldn’t let him die. Not if I could save him. I guess you really never do forget your first love, huh?”

Jyn wouldn’t know.

Cassian is her first.

But she nods all the same.

“Oh, tell Asori, too, that the Empire doesn’t know Cassian was Joreth,” Ethan adds suddenly. “I knew if I told them that I’d caught Joreth that they’d know Asori was a spy, too. That’s why I put him in the records under his real name, instead. He probably won’t be happy about that, but it keeps Asori alive, and I know he’d want that more.” Ethan looks up at Jyn. “For the Rebellion, and all that.”

“Course,” Jyn says.

Ethan gets to his feet.

“I should go,” he says. “He’ll wake up any minute, and I really don’t think he’ll want to see me.”

“Are you sure?” Jyn asks, seizing Ethan’s arm. “You saved him. I think he’d want to thank you.”

“No, he won’t,” Ethan says. “He’ll think it’s just another thing he owes me. And it really, really isn’t.”

“But I--”

Jyn breaks off, because someone says her name.

She and Ethan turn around, and look at Cassian, who is staring up at them from the gurney, his eyes almost comically wide in shock and horror.

He begins to move, struggling to sit up.

“Cassian,” Jyn breathes, and she goes to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist, propping him up against her shoulder.

Cassian looks at her, and she could almost laugh at the stunned surprise in his expression.

“I’m alive?” He checks.

“Yeah, Cass, you’re alive,” Jyn says, smiling. She nods her head at Ethan, who’s standing there, frozen, and staring at Cassian. “Ethan saved your life.”

Cassian blinks, and stares at Ethan.

Ethan swallows. “You were supposed to sleep for another five minutes.”

“I don’t oversleep,” Cassian says, shock still coloring his voice.

“Yeah,” Ethan agrees. “Yeah, I did know that. I guess you showing up early shouldn’t be surprising. You used to do that a lot.”

“Ethan…”

Ethan’s eyes close for a moment, and Jyn can see his pain, that old heartache, though she isn’t sure Cassian sees it, can recognize it for what it truly is.

“It’s fine,” Ethan says. “Everything. It. It’s fine. You don’t… You can just forget about all this, pretend it never happened. Go back to wherever you were. It’s fine.”

“Why did you do it?” Cassian asks. “Why did you save me?”

Jyn and Ethan know the true answer.

Ethan tells Cassian a half-truth now.

“Because I could,” he says, softly. “Because I thought you were dead, and then I saw you, and you very obviously weren’t dead, and I… I wanted to know what happened. Jyn told me some of it, and I… I’m good now, so.”

Cassian frowns at this.

Jyn can tell that he doesn’t believe Ethan.

Slowly, Cassian slides off the gurney, getting to his feet, and leaning on Jyn, likely still groggy from the injection.

“Ethan, I--”

“Cassian, look,” Ethan says, interrupting him. “I just… I hated that the last memory you had of me was me beating you to a pulp on the street in CoCo Town. I hated that. Because I… You did something truly awful, truly… devastating, but you were my best friend for four years. We can’t be friends anymore, we can’t even be acquaintances, but leaving things the way we did… It wasn’t right. This is better.”

Cassian stares, but his expression softens.

“Ethan, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for Sebastian, for--”

“I know,” Ethan says. “I know you are, Cassian. And I… I forgive you. As best I can.”

Cassian’s breath catches at the words, at the forgiveness.

“You don’t have to,” he says.

“I know,” Ethan says, again. “I probably shouldn’t. Yet, here we are. So--”

But he stops talking, as Cassian steps forward, and hugs him.

Jyn can’t help but smile at Ethan’s stunned look, at the way his gray-blue eyes widen in alarm. Slowly, he relaxes, and his eyes close, and she watches as he hugs Cassian back.

For a moment, Jyn thinks she can see the teenagers they used to be.

When they were spies in the Royal Imperial Academy, likely feeling isolated, and so alone.

She can imagine the kind of lifelong bond a situation like that would create.

But she understands, too, why Cassian and Ethan’s friendship is so precarious, why they won’t try to be friends ever again.

Cassian killed Sebastian Bain. It is undeniable.

“Thank you,” Cassian murmurs. “I won’t forget this.”

“Yeah,” Ethan says, just as quietly. “Me, neither.”

Some things can be forgiven, but some things cannot be forgotten.

They part, smiling softly at each other, before Ethan turns to look at Jyn again.

“You guys need to go,” he says, “But don’t let him fly. He shouldn’t fly for at least twenty-four hours, to be on the safe side.”

“Okay,” Jyn says.

“He’s a sithspit pilot, so it’s probably for the best.”

Cassian laughs. “You’ve always said the nicest things about me, Ethan.”

“I speak the truth,” Ethan replies, and Jyn grimaces. “Anyway. It was nice to meet you, Jyn.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Ethan,” Jyn says, and she means it.

Ethan looks at Cassian.

“I hope I never see you again,” Ethan says. “Don’t come back.”

They all know what he means; if he sees Cassian again, it’s because Cassian has been caught by the Empire, or killed.

There is no other situation in which Cassian and Ethan would see each other again.

Cassian nods. “I know. Goodbye, Ethan. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Goodbye, Cassian.”

And Ethan turns, and opens the door of the ship, and disappears down the ramp, into the dark Coruscant night.

Jyn and Cassian watch him go.

“Jyn,” Cassian says.

“Yeah?”

“Ethan is right, you do need to fly, because I’m going to pass out.”

And with that, he drops to the floor of the ship.

Jyn barely manages to catch him.

 

* * *

 

While Cassian sleeps, Jyn flies them off Coruscant.

She does pause first to send a message to Asori. She tells her that Cassian is alive, and that Ethan Bain did not tell the Empire that Cassian used to be Joreth Sward, and so Asori is safe. Jyn adds that she and Cassian are leaving Coruscant, and she’ll send another message later, with more explanation.

She’s sure Asori is going to want more details.

Like she’s sure that when Cassian wakes up, he’s going to want more details.

She’s left him in the cabin, so when she turns around, she can see him. Cassian is a near-silent and light sleeper, and she suspects that this is due to his years at the Royal Imperial Academy, where his paranoia of being discovered translated into his sleeping habits. He’s liable to startle awake easily, barely makes any noise, and lies perfectly still.

She smiles at him, and then turns to the stars.

They still have a couple days before they’re expected back at base on Hoth, and she knows they need those two days. They need to breathe, and relax, and discuss everything that’s happened.

She doesn’t think they can do this on Hoth.

She thinks.

She thinks of Cassian, and of memory, and of home.

And she knows where they’ll go next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Voice Arriving with the Coots" appears in Eugenio Montale's SELECTED POEMS.
> 
> Ethan being in love with Cassian, during their friendship, was something I wanted to explore in GRAY AREAS but never could because that story was from Cassian's perspective, and it was something Ethan did not want him to know. It is barely even suggested, only really there through Ethan's frequent affection and devotion, and Wada always being very praising of Ethan, which was not something Wada was prone to do. At some point Wada does tell Cassian "Ethan is a very good friend for you" which I kinda thought was Wada's way of saying "One day, Ethan might tell you something you're not gonna know what to do with, so Be Chill." Otherwise, though, it is not suggested at all, and with this story I decided to consider it. The way Ethan and Cassian's friendship ended in GRAY AREAS was devastating, but it couldn't have ended any other way for that story. This is a new, alternate ending story though, so.
> 
> Ethan and Jyn have some interesting parallels that never occurred to me before. I wish I could say this was intentional, but it wasn't.
> 
> For Jyn, this story is about love/first love, memory, truth, and understanding, so of course this would come up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s home.
> 
> Lah’mu, and this old house.
> 
> The sea, and the salt, and the man sleeping in the ship outside.

 

_(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)_

 

_Someone I loved once gave me_

_a box full of darkness._

 

_It took me years to understand_

_that this, too, was a gift._

 

-Mary Oliver, “The Uses of Sorrow”

 

* * *

 

Jyn flies them back to the Outer Rim, and they arrive in the Raioballo Sector in the early morning, and she thinks of how close it is to the Atrivis Sector, thinks of how she and Cassian grew up in neighboring sectors of the Outer Rim.

For a few years, during their childhoods, they were so close.

Living in parallel sectors.

 _Parallel lines_ , she thinks, and she knows at last that it’s really true.

Lah’mu looks much the same as she remembers. She flies the ship over the crisp oceans, over the black sand beaches, over the sharp green mountains, the thin, light sun beginning to rise. She can practically taste the salt of the clean air from inside the ship, and she can’t stop the wide smile that spreads over her face.

She’d always thought returning to Lah’mu would make her melancholic, but it is creating an opposite reaction in her.

She thinks of Cassian describing his return to Fest to her, how Fest had reminded him of who he was.

_“So I came back here. And it… It was like I was me again. I was lost, I was grieving, and this place, this planet… It brought me back. My personality, my idealism, my hope. I remembered who I was, who I wanted to be. Not a ghost anymore, but the son of Gabriel and Serafima, and the brother of Nerezza. Someone they could be proud of. Someone good.”_

She gets it.

She flies them to the Erso homestead.

It looks largely untouched, in the thirteen, almost fourteen years since it was abandoned. She can see cracks on the house, can see the yard is disturbed, that the crops are overgrown, but the place is still standing, was not destroyed completely by the deathtroopers and the man in white, which is more than she expected.

She lands the ship on a plateau just past the house.

Cassian is still sleeping, and so she leaves him be, and walks outside alone.

The grass is up to her waist, and she wades through it, feeling a light rain falling over her face and hair. But it is a clear rain, a much more pleasant rain than the rain that fell on her in the Coruscant Underworld, and she walks through it without worry. She brushes her hands over the grass, and she looks out over the green fields, the black dirt plateaus, towards the gray ocean.

She can’t stop smiling.

Jyn turns, and walks towards the house.

It takes some shoving, and sweat, but she manages to get the door open.

The air is musty, and dank; she leaves the door open behind her, letting the sea air blow into the house. It looks much the same as it had thirteen years ago, and she sees the scant remnants of moldy food left on the counter, drawers opened messily, kitchenware never put away, beds unmade.

She walks through the house, stopping by her childhood bed.

The blankets are thrown back, and she sees a few of her old stuffed animals there, including an ewok whose name she’s forgotten.

She looks around the room.

It’s home.

Lah’mu, and this old house.

The sea, and the salt, and the man sleeping in the ship outside.

Home.

She spends the next hour cleaning the house as best as she can. She finds cupboards filled with bugs, and smokes them out. She scrubs mold off surfaces, and tosses decomposing containers, and opens every window she can, to let in all the clean air as possible.

She hears a noise outside, a noise that can’t be the wind, and so she walks back out, wading through the tall grass.

Cassian is standing out there, staring out over the hillside, looking at the sea.

She calls his name, and he turns.

He looks absolutely bewildered, his eyes still a little dazed, and he has goosebumps rising on his needle-marked arms, from the rain and the chilly air, and he’s beautiful.

She can only smile at him.

“Jyn,” Cassian says. “Where the hell are we?”

 

* * *

 

Seeing Cassian sitting at the kitchen table of her childhood home is a little surreal.

They still can’t close the windows or doors, since they have not properly fumigated the house yet, and so he sits with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and a cup of Ansionian tea in his hands, and watches Jyn as she moves around the house, trying to disinfect what she can, as the cold sea air blows around them.

He’d tried to help her, but she’d forced him to sit still, reminding him that he’d been tortured, and almost killed the day before.

“You should probably go back to sleep,” she says, again, now.

“I’m not tired.”

“You should be.”

“I’m _confused_ ,” Cassian says, sharply. “What the hell happened on Coruscant? Did I… I keep seeing Ethan in the Alliance ship. Was that a dream, or did that really happen?”

“It really happened,” Jyn confirms. “He saved you.”

Cassian is quiet after that, and so she takes the opportunity to clean the refresher.

When she returns to the kitchen, half an hour later, Cassian is just where she left him, staring into his now-cold tea.

She sits down across from him, and takes his hand.

He blinks up at her.

“I’m not sure I remember everything, correctly,” he says. “So I’m going to tell you what I do remember, and I need you to tell me if it’s correct, and if I’m forgetting anything.”

“Okay,” Jyn says.

“You were in Lemniscate,” he says.

Jyn nods. “I… I tried to rescue you. I failed.”

Cassian shakes his head. “You couldn’t have succeeded. It’s _Lemniscate_. It’s where the Empire sends people to never be seen again.”

She looks away, and stares at the old white tabletop.

“You were on the other side of the window,” Cassian says. “I couldn’t hear you, but you could hear me. I could read your lips, though, so I got most of what you were saying. I think.”

Here, he pauses, and frowns at her.

“I told you that I loved you,” he says, slowly. “And I told you to go. And you… you said something…”

She can tell that he thinks he remembers correctly, but that he isn’t sure it is something she’d actually say, and so is uncertain that it actually happened, that he thinks he might’ve dreamt the words from her.

“You remember correctly,” Jyn says, softly, her voice barely audible over the ocean wind blowing in from the open windows.

Cassian looks at her.

“Did you… Did you just say it because you thought I was going to die, or--”

“I love you,” Jyn says, and he can hear her voice now, and he freezes.

She exhales after she speaks.

Telling him wasn’t as scary as she had thought it would be.

It feels nice. It feels good.

“Jyn,” he whispers.

“I mean it,” Jyn continues. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t say it before. I’m sorry you almost died without hearing it. I’ll say it more often, now.”

“You don’t have to,” Cassian says, and there’s a small smile on his face, that soft smile he seems to show only to her.

“I _want_ to,” Jyn says. “I think… It’s something you need to know. Something you need to remember. Something we both need to remember.”

Cassian considers this.

“I love you,” he says. “I told you, in Lemniscate, that you must remember this.”

Jyn nods, confirming this memory.

“I love you,” she says. “I’m telling you, here, on Lah’mu. And you must remember this.”

“I have a good memory,” Cassian says. “Most of the time, at least. I’ll remember.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

They spend most of the morning curled up practically on top of each other to fit in Jyn’s childhood bed, the windows still open and blowing cold air down on them, and so they bury themselves under a small avalanche of blankets, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She asks Cassian about what happened after he left her in CoCo Town.

He tells her about being caught, about Ethan denying him as Joreth Sward and calling him Cassian Andor instead, and he tells her about going to Lemniscate.

“It wasn’t my first time there,” he says, softly. “I’d been there once before, when I was seventeen. I killed twenty prisoners--”

“I know,” Jyn says, so he doesn’t have to revisit the memory, which she’s certain he did, repeatedly, in the hours he spent in the prison yesterday. “Asori told me.”

“Oh,” Cassian says.

“It’s okay, Cass.”

He bites his lip, deliberates if he wants to continue talking about that memory, and decides against it.

He lets it go.

Instead, he tells her they tortured him with a neurotoxin that made his blood feel like it was on fire.

“It was not… pleasant,” he says, voice stiff.

“No, I’d imagine not. Did Ethan do it?”

“Ethan? No, he wasn’t there. He questioned me for a little bit, he kept calling me Cassian, which I will never not think weird since he called me Joreth for most of the time we knew each other, and he… And he told me I was going to be executed, but he… He left before they started torturing me. I thought it strange.”

“I think he went to get that drug, the one that knocked you out, instead of killing you,” Jyn says.

Cassian considers this.

“I guess,” he says.

He remembers being put in the room on death row, his body still burning, his mind exhausted, and feeling hopeless.

“And then I looked up, and there you were,” Cassian says, a note of wonder in his voice. “I was going to die, and there were you, right there, when I needed you, to see you again, just once more. You were right on time.”

“It’s been known to happen, once or twice,” Jyn says.

Cassian smiles, and brushes his fingers over her face, lingering on her lips.

“You went back for me,” he says. “You didn’t even give me the three hours I asked for.”

“Are you _really_ going to complain about that--”

“No,” he says, quickly. “Of course you came back for me. You’ve never wanted to leave me.”

He knows it’s true, and she does, too. He knows that when he fell off the data tower on Scarif, knocked unconscious, spine bruised and bleeding internally, that the sight of him there on the platform had almost been enough to cause Jyn to climb back down, to check on him, or to turn back and try to kill the man in white there, on the spot. But the weight of the data tapes at her back, the weight of the loss of K-2SO, the unknown but near-certain loss of Rogue One on the beach outside, had made her keep going.

It was what Cassian would have done.

They both know it, too.

They’re both fine with it.

“What happened after Ethan took you out of the cell?” Jyn asks. “Did he tell you… Did you know?”

“No,” Cassian murmurs. “I was convinced I was going to die. I was led to the execution room, and I realized it was going to be a lethal injection. It’s the closest thing to a painless death the Empire could give me, and I…” He sighs. “I knew, then, that it’d been Ethan’s call. He was going to kill me, but he was going to make it as quick as possible. It was more than I expected from him, though maybe… I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

Jyn stills, and looks at him.

“Ethan was my best friend,” Cassian says, quietly. “I loved him, and Sebastian, and their parents, Callista and Damon. At school, Ethan and I would study together, and go to the Uscru District on weekends, and after we graduated we’d go to bars, and just… Just hang out, and talk, for hours. And Damon would always ask about how I was doing, whenever he was on base, and Callista would try to make Festian food for me, to make me feel less homesick. She used to fret over how skinny Taraja and I were, too. And Sebastian… I gave him my old flight jacket from Fest, on his eleventh birthday.” He looks at Jyn. “I killed him three weeks later.”

Jyn holds his hand in hers, and nods.

“In Lemniscate, I thought that the last thing I was going to see before I died was Ethan,” he continues. “Just… Just looking at me. He asked if I had any last words, and I shook my head. I’d already talked to you. And he… Ethan used to be my best friend. We spent years with each other. He knows all my tells. I was certain that if I tried to speak, he’d fully realize how scared I was. I was terrified, Jyn. I felt very alone.”

She closes her eyes; but she doesn’t want to imagine it.

“And then I heard the hiss of the decompressor, and I felt the rush of the compound, and that was it. The next thing I know, I’m waking up in the ship, and you’re there, and so is Ethan.” He shakes his head, still looking stunned at the memory. “I remember thinking, ‘ _T_ _he afterlife is far stranger than I anticipated_.’”

Jyn smiles. “You have no idea how relieved I was to see your eyes open.”

“Mm,” Cassian agrees. Then, his face hardens. “Jyn, you have to tell me everything Ethan said to you. I just… Why, and what he… I need to know.”

Jyn looks at him.

She thinks of Ethan Bain, of his soft words, of the bitterness of his voice, the pain of a first love unrequited.

She thinks of how Cassian has no idea.

She thinks of how only Wada knew, and Wada is dead.

She thinks of memory, of one person existing as two people in another’s recollection of the past.

She makes a choice.

She gives Cassian an outline of her and Ethan’s conversation, Ethan’s summary of their friendship, of the night Sebastian died, of Ethan’s work for the Rebellion, after, on the outskirts and always anonymous. She tells Cassian that Ethan is married now, and that Ethan did not tell the Empire that Cassian was Joreth Sward, in order to keep Asori alive, because Asori leads the Coruscant Rebellion, and the Coruscant Rebellion cannot survive without her.

She does not tell Cassian that Ethan wanted Asori to live only because Cassian does.

She does not tell Cassian that Ethan’s husband has brown eyes like Cassian’s.

She does not tell Cassian that Ethan Bain was in love with him for several years.

She thinks that Ethan doesn’t want Cassian to know, has never wanted him to know. She thinks that Cassian knowing now wouldn’t do him any good, would likely only add to his guilt.

She thinks that some things do need to stay in the past.

She thinks that some memories should remain secrets.

She thinks that, now, there is something she knows about Cassian Andor that he does not know himself.

She thinks that first loves are tremulous, mysterious, and defining.

She thinks that she gets that now. Now that she has one.

She suspects that when Cassian looks at his past, at the people that fill it, he thinks Jyn is more like Taraja than any of his other ghosts.

But Jyn looks at his past, at the people she’s learned dwell there, and thinks she’s more like Ethan, with his difficulties with the cause, and his first love being Cassian Andor.

But that is not something Cassian can know.

It is something that only she will remember.

 

* * *

 

They sleep.

For hours, in the Erso homestead, on Jyn’s old bed, the ocean wind blowing over them.

They wake up in the late afternoon, when the sun is starting to slant through the windows, when the house smells more like salt than mold.

They go back to the ship for something to eat, and then they walk towards the sea.

It is a long walk, through the overgrown grass that was once well-managed crops, down the sloping hills that surround the homestead, across the sprawling plateaus that separate the land from the ocean, to the black sand that lines the sea.

A wind is coming off the gray ocean, throwing water and salt air into their faces.

They smile at it all, the soft white sun sloping overhead.

“You know,” Cassian says, walking a few feet ahead of Jyn, looking down, at his boots sinking into the sand. “On Scarif, that was the first time I’d ever walked on a beach?”

Jyn stares at him.

“ _Ever?_ ”

“Ever,” Cassian confirms. “Fest doesn’t have oceans, nor does Coruscant. Corellia does, and I spent a few years there, with the Corellian Resistance… But I somehow never had the time to see the beach. And I barely spent any time on Dantooine, and Yavin 4 doesn’t have beaches either. That was why I laughed when we got off the elevator on Scarif, and I saw the beach, the white sand, the water…”

Jyn remembers.

_He laughs._

_“What?” Jyn asks, voice tense, carrying the brunt of his weight._

_“The beach. We’re on a beach.”_

“Yeah, I thought that was odd,” Jyn says, now, returning from the memory. “To be honest, I assumed it was delirium from whatever was wrong with you, your injuries from that fall off the tower.”

“Oh, that is definitely why I _could_ laugh.”

Jyn yanks off her boots, and peels off her socks, and rolls up the hems of her pants. She sinks her toes into the black sand, and then she walks into the sea.

The frigid water runs over her bare feet, and she grins.

She wades out further, letting the water climb over her knees, as Cassian watches her from the beach.

“Come on, Cass,” she calls.

“I can’t swim.”

“You’re telling me your fancy education at the Royal Imperial Academy didn’t include swimming lessons?”

“Wasn’t in the curriculum. I’ve already complained to Asori about this, but you can also send her a strongly worded letter.”

Jyn laughs. “I might. But we aren’t swimming, Cassian. We’re just walking. Come on.”

He looks at her, and then he nods, pulling off his boots and socks, and following her into the ocean.

He yelps a little at the cold water, and she laughs again, laughing more at the look of wonder on his face as he looks at the water rushing around his legs.

“Okay, okay,” he says, grabbing her hand. “Okay. This is fine.”

“Kriff, Cass, yeah, you’re okay.”

They walk through the surf, keeping their hands locked. Cassian looks down at the small ripples his legs make as he steps, while Jyn looks up, at the soft sunlight, the gathering clouds.

“Iego,” she says, after several minutes of companionable silence.

Cassian looks at her.

“Iego,” he repeats.

“Kay shot you, and you almost died,” Jyn says, remembering what Asori had said, of what Kes had said. “And the Angels saved you.”

“Yes,” Cassian confirms.

“Do you… Do you want to _expand_ on that--”

“I would,” he says, “But there isn’t much more to say. I don’t remember a lot. I was twenty-three, so this was three years ago. I do remember Kay shooting me, and I remember falling off the side of a cliff on Iego, and I remember thinking I was going to die. I woke up four months later, on Corellia, with holes in my kidney, intestines, and lung. Shara had flown Kay and me to Iego, and she’d waited in the ship for us, and she told me when I woke up that an Angel had found her in the ship, and told her that I was in a medical center on Jabiim. She’d flown straight there, and sure enough, there I was. None of the hospital staff knew where I’d come from. I’d just… turned up. With three blaster shots in my chest, and a stopped heart. They had to use a defibrillator, twice.”

Jyn takes this in, standing still in the water next to Cassian.

“What did Kay say?”

“Nothing,” Cassian murmurs. “While I was in a coma, the Corellian Resistance wiped his memory, and overhauled his programming. He forgot everything. Coruscant, Taraja, Fest, me. We were strangers again, but it was worse, because we weren’t supposed to be. And he’d almost killed me. It was… It was very difficult, for years after. I didn’t trust him anymore, and I was _furious_ with him. And he wasn’t my friend. He was… You probably think he’d always been rude to everyone, but he didn’t used to be. He was much kinder to me, and Tara. More human. And then the technicians overhauled his programming, and he just… No human mannerisms. No niceties. Nothing. Just any other droid.”

“I’m sorry, Cassian,” Jyn says, and she squeezes his hand.

Cassian nods. “I think we got it right, in the end. Before Scarif. I couldn’t tell him what had happened for years, but he figured it out. On the way to Jedha. Because I had let you have a blaster, and he couldn’t understand why, because you were a criminal, and liable to attack me. He realized, then, that he’d attacked me before, and that was why he couldn’t have one.”

“I gave him a blaster,” Jyn breathes. “On Scarif, I--”

“I know,” Cassian reminds her. “And it’s fine. It was fine. I… I do think it was Iego that caused him to shoot me. And for a long time, I could not handle picturing Kay with a blaster. It brought those memories back. But just before Scarif, I realized… I needed to let it go. That yes, Kay had shot me, but it hadn’t been _him_. Not my friend. He actually apologized to me, and I finally forgave him. We were okay again.” He looks at Jyn. “I am very sad he’s gone, but I am glad that before he died, he knew we were friends again.”

They walk out of the sea, stepping bare foot across the black sand. The sun is starting to set over the ocean, and so they sit on the grass, at the edge of the beach, digging their toes into the sand, and watch the sunset.

“What are you thinking about?” Cassian asks, turning to her.

“You,” Jyn says, and this is the truth. “And how you’re a far better man than you think you are.”

Cassian swallows, and looks away.

“I try to be,” he says. “I’m more okay with who I am than I used to be. But, Jyn, I’ve killed hundreds of people. Men, women, children. I’ve… I’ve tortured, and stolen, and lied, and… There are things about me, things I have done, that I can never tell you. For my sanity, or because I’ve been ordered not to by the Alliance. And I just, uh… Can you be all right with that?”

“Yeah,” Jyn says. “Because I know you.”

Cassian looks at her, and she sees the question in his eyes.

“You think you don’t have morals, but you do,” Jyn says. “It’s the Rebellion. That’s where your morality is, for better or worse. You put the Rebellion before anything else. It’s your constant, it’s where you’ve always lived. Not Fest, or Coruscant, or Corellia; those were just… landscapes. A place to sleep. The Rebellion has always been your home, and everything I could ever need to know about you… It’s all there. That’s who you are.”

“The cause is always first, for me,” Cassian says, quietly. “I put it before everything. Before my family, before Taraja, before K-2SO, before my friends… I will put it before you, too. Someday.”

“I know. I’m okay with that.”

“You shouldn’t be, you should expect more--”

“It’s okay, because that’s who you _are_ ,” Jyn insists. “Anything else, anything _less_ … That wouldn’t be you. That wouldn’t be Cassian Andor.”

Cassian considers this.

“I’m irritable,” he says, suddenly. “I hate blue milk. I can’t stand the smell of camby berries, and I hate clutter. I don’t like sleeping with more than one pillow, and I wake up at any movement or noise. I get insomnia, and I don’t sleep for days. I’ve been sad, in one way or another, for a very long time, and I probably always will be. There will be days where I refuse to talk to anyone, including you, and days where I’ll snap at you for no good reason. I’m not… I’m not always a pleasant person to be around, Jyn.”

“Neither am I,” Jyn says, and this is the truth. “I hog the covers. I don’t like whiskey. I snore. I’m impatient, and I’m rude, and I _will_ yell at you about nothing.”

“I’m fine with all that,” Cassian says.

“I know, and I’m fine with you, too.”

“You’re really okay with me?” Cassian says, sounding a little incredulous. “With me, with… With everything you’ve heard the last week?”

She smiles. “I’m really okay with it. With you.”

He stares at her, and then lifts his arm, dotted with needle marks and grains of black sand, and presses his hand to her cheek.

When he kisses her, she can taste the salt of the sea, and she knows this feeling, this moment, is everything home is to her.

She creates a list, a litany, of things to remember:

The sea. Cassian. Lah’mu.

Home.

 

* * *

 

Their walk back to the house is halted when Jyn runs into a white stone the height of her knees, unnoticed by her due to the much taller height of the overgrown grass that has covered it.

She trips on the stone, but Cassian catches her before she can fall.

“ _Kriff_ ,” she grunts, rubbing her sure-to-be-bruised knees, bewildered as to why a white stone is in the middle of what had once been a field of her mother’s crops.

She brushes the grass aside, scrubs a layer of salt off the top of the stone, and freezes.

Cassian, standing next to her, frowns at her.

“Jyn? What’s wrong?”

She can’t speak. She sinks down into the grass, landing on her knees in the dirt.

Above her, Cassian looks at the stone, and sees the name written there.

_Lyra Erso._

“Oh,” Cassian breathes.

“This is where she died,” Jyn croaks, and she realizes it’s true, realizes this is the spot where her mother was shot. She hadn’t figured it out, since her vantage point to this event had been so far away, and she’d been watching from a much lower height than she would now. But she knows, instinctively, that this is the very same spot, where her mother had fallen after being hit by a beam of red, where her father had yelled, and run to her mother’s side.

Cassian drops to his knees next to Jyn, and brushes his hands over her shoulders.

“Jyn,” he murmurs, voice soft over the noise of the grass rumbling around them, above their heads. “I’m so sorry, Jyn.”

He’s told her that before, said so the first time she described her mother’s death to him, in the dead of night, in his bed back at Echo Base, four months after she and Cassian met.

She takes a few deep breathes, and then lifts her hand, pressing it to the cold white stone.

Her other hand fumbles for the kyber crystal at her throat.

She could almost swear that it warms.

She closes her eyes.

She thinks of Cassian, a few days ago, standing before Serafima Andor’s grave on Fest.

“Mama,” Jyn whispers now. “It’s me. It’s Jyn.”

She pictures her mother, her soft brown eyes, sharp eyebrows, messy brown hair.

 _Jyn_ , Lyra whispers in her head.

Jyn opens her eyes.

“This is Cassian,” she says, like Cassian had introduced her to his family on Fest.

“Hello,” Cassian says, softly.

“We won, Mama,” Jyn tells Lyra. “Well. Sort of. We won against the man in white, and I think you would be happy about that.”

Cassian smiles, pressing his face into Jyn’s shoulder.

“We’re still fighting,” Jyn continues. “And we’re going to keep going. Cassian… He’s with me. He’s sticking with me, as far as we can go. We’re… We’re very hopeful. We think we’re going to win. We… We have faith that we’re going to win.”

 _Trust the Force_.

“I do,” Jyn breathes. “I do. I… I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.”

She sees a flash of milky blue eyes, of sure hands, of a long staff.

She smiles, and then she finally starts to cry.

For Lyra. For Chirrut. For Baze. For Bodhi. For K-2SO. For Rogue One.

Cassian leans over her, his arms wrapped around her, as the grass sweeps over them both.

 

* * *

 

Jyn has a few questions left.

“The three blaster shots were from Kay, on Iego, three years ago,” she says, when they’re back on the ship that night, changing their clothes to go to sleep. Cassian stands in front of her, shirtless, and still, as she brushes her fingers over these scars.

“And then the one on your shoulder was from Zeferino, on Fest, thirteen years ago,” she says, moving her hand to his right shoulder.

“Yes.”

“And the vibroblade scar was from the rebel on Coruscant, in the Opera House, six years ago,” she says, dropping her hand to his side.

“Yes.”

“Where did the scar on your hip come from?”

She presses her palm to the scar, and feels him take a deep breath.

“About… uh. Three days before I met you?”

She looks up, startled. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms. “Kay and I went to Corulag, for me to assassinate the Imperial officer in charge of the mining and exporting of the raw materials of Corulag, which the Empire was using to build Star Destroyers. I did assassinate the officer, but not before we fought, and he got a shot in at my hip. It chipped the top of my hip bone, and I couldn’t move; I was stuck on the floor of the warehouse in the shipyard. In addition to that, I was bleeding internally, had three cracked ribs, two broken ones, and the wall of my stomach was torn, and sending bile into my abdomen.”

“Kriff,” Jyn says, stunned. “How the _hell_ did you get out of that? And, and… Be healthy enough for everything after, with Jedha, and Scarif?”

“Kay came and got me,” Cassian says. “And I gave him the address of an Alliance safehouse. It… If I was more interested in surviving than I was in not being caught, I would’ve had him take me to a hospital. But I knew the Empire could find us there, so a safehouse it was. And, very luckily for me, the woman who owned the house was a former jedi; a force healer.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Cassian laughs, catching her hand at his hip, entwining his fingers with hers. “I’m serious. I couldn’t believe it, either. Her name was Alkmene. She healed me, and she… She told me the force moved strongly around me, which told her that she had to help me. Chirrut said something similar to me, too, on Jedha. I thought they were both ridiculous. They sounded like the Angel on Iego.”

“What did the _Angel_ say?”

“That I was gray,” Cassian replies. “But that I still had work to do, that I was still needed. I assume that ‘work’ was why the Angel, or Angels, saved me.”

Jyn considers this.

“Was it… Do you think it was talking about stealing the Death Star plans?”

Cassian sighs. “I have no idea. I try not to think about the Angels, or Iego, too much.”

Because K-2SO had shot him there, and almost killed him.

They crawl into the cot in the ship, the Erso house still too cold and open for them to sleep in, at night at least. Cassian lays still, eyes closed, as Jyn runs her fingers over the needle marks on his arms from his torture in Lemniscate.

He winces when she brushes against the largest mark, now an unnatural black color, from the non-lethal injection.

“Sorry,” she murmurs.

“It’s okay.”

“Are these going to be scars?”

“Probably,” he says, opening his eyes and looking at the marks with her. “The bigger one there, definitely. The smaller ones, likely. The Empire would want me to remember what happened, and scars have a way of doing that.”

Jyn frowns.

“No,” Cassian says, smiling. “It’s okay. They remind me of you, and how you went back for me, even when you had no chance of saving me. You found me, so I could see you again.”

“Right on time,” Jyn says, remembering his words from earlier.

“Right on time.”

“I mean, I am sometimes, but I’m not _normally_ on time. Don’t expect it.”

He laughs. “Got it.”

A moment later, he sits up straight, nearly knocking Jyn to the floor.

“ _Kriff_ ,” he breathes. “Jyn, did you message Asori--”

“I told her you’re alive,” Jyn says, regaining her balance, holding onto his arm. “And that Ethan didn’t tell the Empire you used to be Joreth Sward.”

“Did you tell her to message the Alliance? Did _you_ message the Alliance?”

She frowns. “No. Why would I? I never told them you were caught in the first place.”

Cassian groans.

“They know, though,” he says. “We monitor Imperial death records.”

Jyn realizes then why he’s so panicked.

“Oh,” she says. “The Alliance thinks you’re dead.”

Because Ethan would’ve written a report detailing the execution of Cassian Andor, not Joreth Sward, by lethal injection in Lemniscate.

“Well, they’ll be thrilled to see you alive, then,” she says.

“I’m not worried about the _Alliance_ ,” Cassian says. “I’m worried about _Kes_.”

She blinks, and remembers Kes’ anger at Cassian after Scarif, how he’d punched him in the hall, how he’d yelled at Cassian for five minutes because Cassian had died without any note of farewell.

“This was the third time I’ve almost died, since he’s known me,” Cassian mutters now, his eyes wide. “He might actually kill me, just to get it over with, for _real_.”

And Jyn can’t help it.

She laughs, and laughs.

Cassian actively tries to shove her off the cot and onto the floor.

But she clings onto his arm, and his shoulders, and doesn’t let go.

 

* * *

 

They wake up early, to make the most of their last day on Lah’mu.

Cassian follows Jyn through the house, going through closets and cupboards and bins, digging through moldy clothes and dank stacks of towels, looking for anything salvageable, anything for Jyn to have.

“I was glad to have Taraja’s scarf,” Cassian tells her, going through a bin of her father’s old tools. “To have just that one thing. I didn’t exactly _need_ something to remember her by, but it helped, because I wasn’t ready to let her go for so long.”

Jyn has never had much from her family. She only had the clothes on her back, and the food, knife, blanket, light, and spare clothes in her bag, when Saw Gerrera had found her in the secret tunnel, and taken her off Lah’mu. As far as she knows, he didn’t go back to the homestead for anything.

Saw Gerrera was not nostalgic; she expects he saw no reason to go back.

But Jyn looks at her mother’s old hair ties, and thinks she would’ve liked him to.

She steps away from the rack of hair ties, and turns her attention to the small dresser filled with her mother’s clothes. Her breath catches.

There’s a hologram projector on the top of the dresser.

She darts over, and picks it up, her thumb pressing for the on switch.

Nothing happens, and Jyn feels disappointment run through her.

“The power cell is probably dead,” Cassian says, softly, and Jyn hadn’t heard him follow her into her parents’ bedroom. She turns, and sees him in the doorway, watching her.

“We can get it a new one, on base,” he tells her, walking to her side and taking the projector from her, turning it over in his hands. “And if that doesn’t work, we can see if one of the Alliance technicians will take a look. Or I can. I fixed a hologram projector when I was twelve, so I could talk to Taraja on Mantooine. It was a very old model, and it took me a bit, but I got it running. I could try with this one.”

Jyn nods, throat tight. “That… I would really appreciate that, yeah.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I think it’s us,” Jyn says, quietly. “My parents, and me. I… I can kind of remember getting our picture taken on Coruscant. I think… I think my mother did keep it in here.”

“Then we’ll definitely have to fix it,” Cassian says, and Jyn thinks of how he lost his only picture of his mother last year.

They both understand the pain of not seeing a mother’s face for so long.

“I’d like to see a picture of your mother,” he tells her now. “What did she look like?”

“Me,” Jyn says. “The height, and the hair, mostly, I think. Her eyes were brown; I have my father’s eyes.”

Jyn has a hologram of her father; his old Imperial work record, downloaded from an Imperial database on Chandrila, when she’d gone there on a mission with the Pathfinders four months ago. It’d been an impulse steal, but she’s certain no one at the Empire has noticed, or cared. Galen Erso has been dead for six months.

Cassian smiles at her description of her mother.

“We’ll fix it,” he promises.

They pack up most of her parents’ clothes to take back to Hoth, to try to clean and then donate to the Alliance, as Cassian had done a year ago with Taraja’s old gray scarf, which Jyn had then chosen for herself. Jyn does keep a couple sweaters that had belonged to her mother, and a long raincoat that had belonged to her father.

She looks at the stuffed ewok on her old bed.

“Will you judge me if I take this?”

Cassian looks at her. “Is this your way of telling me it’s going to end up in _my_ bed?”

“Why would it?” Jyn asks, frowning. “We don’t live in the same room.”

“Maybe we should.”

She turns around, and stares at him.

He shrugs. “If you want to, of course.”

“You’re… telling me to move in with you?”

“ _Asking_ , Jyn. Always asking.”

She considers this.

She’s been alone for six years, has never shared her bed with anyone on a permanent basis. The closest has been Cassian, sporadically, over the last six months, and even then he’s always gone back to his own room, where his clothes and blasters and everything else he has is.

And now here they are, back in her parents’ house. The place she grew up. The place she called home, for the longest time.

She looks at Cassian now, and thinks of this idea of home as not simply a place, but the pieces of a place.

Salt air. Green grass. The sea.

Cassian.

At the end of the day, she’d just like to go home.

“Yeah,” she says, at last, to his question. “Yeah, I would like that.”

 

* * *

 

Along the edge of the bottom of a Lah’mu mountain, they find a smooth dark rock, about the size of Lyra’s white stone grave, and carry it back to the homestead, and through the tall grass, to where Lyra is buried.

They’ve cut down the grass around her grave, leaving an odd-looking empty space, save for the white stone, and now, the dark rock next to it.

With the igniter stick, Jyn burns her father’s name into the rock.

She has no body to bury, has no idea what the Empire did with his corpse on Eadu, but thinks this can be enough for him.

It is enough for her.

“Do you want to say anything?” Cassian asks, once she’s finished, and is standing next to him again.

She thinks.

Her feelings about her father are complicated. She knows she loved him, and knows he loved her, but he was still an Imperial scientist, still responsible for the Death Star, and likely a few other horrible things she has not yet learned about. Her father made a decision, to devote himself to the Empire, in the hope it would save _her_ , in a more roundabout kind of way.

_“Everything I do, I do to protect you. Do you understand?”_

_“I understand.”_

But she hadn’t then, not really. She’d told him she did, because she knew he wanted to hear it.

Even now, she isn’t sure she understands it.

Cassian, standing next to her, has similar feelings towards his own father, she knows.

His father, Gabriel Andor, who devoted himself to the cause, founded a Rebellion, at the expense of his marriage, at the expense of his limited time with his children.

She thinks of her and Cassian’s conversation in the belly of the stolen Imperial shuttle, during the flight from Eadu to Yavin 4.

_“My father chose the Empire, for me,” Jyn says, and her voice is rough, and trembling, and she’s struggling to keep herself together. “His cause was me, and it killed my family, and he still left me. But he insisted… it was all to protect me. That’s what he always said to me. Everything I do, I do to protect you. Do you understand, Jyn?”_

_Cassian half-smiles. “My father used to tell me that he hoped I’d understand why he did the things he did, one day.”_

_“And you do.”_

_“And I do,” Cassian agrees. “I’m not sure he was right, though. I don’t think leaving us was the right thing to do.”_

_“I’m so tired of people leaving,” Jyn whispers, and tears are sliding down her face._

_“Me, too,” Cassian murmurs._

She sighs.

“We destroyed it, Papa,” she tells the rock bearing Galen Erso’s name. “The Death Star. We destroyed it.”

Cassian is quiet at her side.

“There’s still…” Jyn pauses. “There’s still so much to do. So much work to be done. But we… We know there are some good people, now, working in the Empire.”

She thinks of Bodhi Rook, the Imperial pilot turned rebel.

She thinks of Ethan Bain, the Imperial officer turned rebel turned a mixture of the two.

“Goodness in Imperials,” she tells her father. “That’s something you showed us. It’s something to remember.”

 

* * *

 

They return to the beach, for one last time before they leave.

This time, Cassian doesn’t hesitate to walk into the sea. Jyn watches from the shore, as he wades deeper into the ocean than he did the day before, letting the water crawl up his knees, running his hands over the top of it, rubbing salt between his fingers. He looks up at the overcast sky, and then down to the cold, clear water.

He doesn’t appear to be bothered by the temperature.

“It’s a little like Fest,” he calls back to Jyn, mirroring her own thought. “With the chill, and the gray sky. But the green is very nice. And very not like Fest.”

“Yeah,” Jyn agrees, raising her voice so it carries over the ocean wind.

“I like it here,” Cassian decides.

Jyn smiles.

“I do, too,” she says.

“We’ll have to come back here, sometime,” Cassian says, wading out of the water, wiping his hands down the front of his shirt. “Whenever we get furlough. We could try and fix up your parents’ place.”

“I’d like that,” Jyn says. “And, since we’d be in this part of the Outer Rim, we could stop by Sernpidal.”

Sernpidal isn’t too far away from Lah’mu. Lah’mu is about halfway between Sernpidal and Fest.

Cassian pauses, and looks at her.

“We could try to find out more about your mother,” Jyn explains. “Who she was when she was younger. Maybe find you another picture of her.”

“Shara could go with us,” Cassian says, thoughtfully. “We might need someone to translate.”

“Your mother didn’t teach you Sernpidalian?”

“I know a handful of phrases,” Cassian says, dismissively, and Jyn thinks of his low opinion of his proficiency in Mantooian and wonders if this is actually true.

“We’d have to drop by Fest on the way back to base,” she says. “Travia Chan will want to see you, since we’d be so close by.”

Cassian smiles. “She would. We’ll have to tell Asori that if she wants to see us, too, she’ll have to come out to the Atrivis Sector. We aren’t going back to Coruscant.”

“No, we are not,” Jyn says, firmly, and Cassian cracks a grin.

The needle marks on his arms are still bright red, and raised, and Jyn knows he’s right; they will scar.

He doesn’t seem at all bothered by them, and so she isn’t either.

They’ve chosen to let those scars represent something good.

Cassian walks to her side, and puts his arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She leans against him, wrapping her arm around his waist.

They look out at the sea, silence all around, save for the lapping of the waves, and the sound of the salt wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary Oliver's wonderful "The Uses of Sorrow" can be found in THIRST.
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All the way,” she says.
> 
> He blinks, considering this, and then he nods.
> 
> “Yeah,” he says now. “Okay. I believe you, Jyn.”

 

_The things you put in your head_

_They will stay here forever_

_Our blood is cold_

_And we're alone, love_

_But I'm alone with you_

 

_Help me to carry the fire_

_We will keep it alight together_

_Help me to carry the fire_

_It will light our way forever_

 

-Editors, from “No Sound But The Wind”

 

* * *

  

Their return to Hoth is not the mellow affair Cassian and Jyn had been hoping it would be.

Rather, they are met in the hangar by Leia Organa herself, whose somber expression melts away into shock when she sees Cassian.

“You’re _alive?_ ” She exclaims, and her yell carries through the space, causing every pilot, technician, soldier, and droid in the area to turn and stare.

Cassian sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’d made the decision not to send a message to the Alliance with the news of his survival, uncertain if the Empire was still monitoring communications sent to and from Lah’mu.

Jyn thinks he also didn’t know what to say, and had needed the long flight from Lah’mu to Hoth to think.

“That’s what Jyn tells me,” he says to Leia now, which Jyn is pretty sure is the wrong thing to say.

“Lieutenant Bey is right, you’re a real kriffing comedian, Captain, and we as an Alliance don’t talk about that enough,” Leia snaps, her wide-eyed shock turning to a deep scowl. “We thought you were _dead_. Some people were very upset by this news.”

“Not you, though, right?”

“Definitely not, Aach,” Leia says, and Jyn remembers that she still doesn’t know the story behind that name for Cassian.

Jyn smiles, though, when Leia steps forward, expression still torn and slightly grudging, and hugs Cassian.

“It’s good to see you,” she says.

Cassian hugs her back. “It’s good to see you too, Leia.”

“Oh, is that how it works? You almost die-- _again_ \--and decide you don’t need to call me _Princess_ anymore?”

“Do you want me to? I was under the impression you didn’t like it. Something about me sounding insincere when I’d say it.”

“Smart-mouthed and breathing, you’re definitely still alive,” Leia says, though she’s smiling. “Come on. I can’t wait to hear whatever thrilling adventure you went on that resulted in the Empire claiming it killed you in Lemniscate. _Lemniscate_ , Aach?”

Cassian reaches over, and snags Jyn’s hand, tugging her along, following Leia into the base.

 

* * *

 

Leia listens as Cassian and Jyn tell her about Mantooine, and Fest, and what Loom Carplin and Travia Chan had to say about Imperial movements in the Atrivis Sector. Jyn had almost forgotten that checking in with the Atrivis Sector Force had been the official reason behind the whole trip, and is glad that Cassian took so many notes during their conversations with the leaders.

Draven shows up as Cassian is telling Leia about the work of the rebels in the Iridium System.

He stares at Cassian, and then sits down across from him, next to Leia.

“You’re alive,” Draven says, somewhat unnecessarily, when there’s a pause in the conversation.

“Yes,” Cassian says, because there is no other possible response.

“What the kriff happened?”

“We’re getting there,” Cassian says, and Leia huffs.

Cassian tells Draven and Leia about deciding to go to Coruscant, to see Asori Joshi. Jyn can see the confusion in Draven’s eyes, but Leia only nods, seemingly okay with Cassian and Jyn’s sort of field trip.

Cassian tells them about being caught by Ethan Bain, and he describes Ethan as a friend of his from the Royal Imperial Academy, which tells Jyn that both Leia and Draven are aware of Cassian’s spy work from ten years ago.

He tells them about Ethan saving his life, and letting him and Jyn go, and not telling the Empire about Joreth Sward, and, following that, not exposing Asori’s own spy work to the Empire.

“But why?” Leia asks, startled. “Why would he do that?”

“He’s been leaking intelligence to the Rebellion,” Jyn says, and all eyes turn to look at her, including Cassian’s, though she’s already told him this. “He’s on our side.”

“Why does he fight anonymously, then?” Draven asks.

Jyn looks at Cassian; his history with Ethan is not her story to tell.

“He used to,” Cassian says now. “He… He decided to leave the Rebellion after… an incident, seven years ago. But he used to be as much a member of the Coruscant Rebellion as I was. He was the one who told me about Galen Erso working in Advanced Weapons Research, and that was how I could told you who Galen Erso was, after I first heard about the Death Star from my contact in the Ring of Kafrene.”

As he speaks, he glances at Jyn, and she sees the apology in his eyes.

But she already knew Ethan had told Cassian about her father; Ethan himself had said so to her.

Under the table, she squeezes Cassian’s hand.

Draven’s expression turns mollifying. He nods, accepting this response.

Cassian tells them that he and Jyn then went to Lah’mu, for him to recover from the torture, and the effects of the drug that had made him appear to be dead. He tells them that he’d forgotten that the Alliance monitors Imperial death records, and so it had not occurred to him that they’d think he’d died until today.

“Understandable,” Draven murmurs, though Jyn doubts he actually thinks it is.

“Well…” Leia sighs, and then throws up her hands. “You’ve either got the worst luck, or the best luck, of just about anyone I’ve ever known, Captain.”

“That sounds about right,” Cassian says.

Leia’s eyes flicker down, to the needle marks on the edge of Cassian’s wrist not covered by his sleeve.

“Take the rest of the day off,” she says, and if Cassian is not quite forgiven for waiting so long to correct his deceased status, then at least he is understood.

Jyn and Cassian leave the room, Draven and Leia talking softly behind them.

“Why does the Princess call you ‘Aach’?” Jyn asks, as they walk through the frozen halls of the base, and Cassian laughs.

“It’s a silly old alias, sort of,” Cassian says. “I’ve only used it officially once, but Leia insists on calling me by it even now, because she was the one who gave me the name.”

Jyn thinks Hoth feels less cold than it did the last time she was here, a week previously, though she knows this can’t actually be true.

“The first time I met Leia was four years ago,” Cassian says. “On Alderaan.”

“Oh,” Jyn says.

“Yeah,” Cassian agrees. “I went there with General Draven, to see Senator Organa. Leia damaged our ship, purposefully, so she could snag me in the hall on my way to fix the ship, and instead interrogate me about the Rebellion. She was fifteen at the time, and not directly involved; but she’d heard of it, of course, because her father was so involved. And she wanted to be as well. So she asked me if I’d still be in the Rebellion when she came of age, in two years, and I said I would be, if I was still alive. She told me she’d want to join the Rebellion then, but her father would try to keep her out of the war, and off the front lines, and so she’d need me to really get her to the war, to the actual fighting. She knew I was a spy, and prone to using aliases, and so she said she’d find me by looking me up as Aach.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s the name of an old Alderaanian hero,” Cassian says, smirking. “As I understand it, he warned Alderaan that Cassus Fett was going to attack them during the Mandalorian Wars. He was caught and executed by the Mandalorians, but he still saved Alderaan.”

Jyn takes this in. “Not a very good ending.”

“I didn’t think so, either. Leia insists she picked the name because she’d just read about the man, for school.” Cassian shrugs. “It’s not like she could’ve known… Well. Unlike the real Aach, I didn’t warn Alderaan in time to save it.”

Jyn frowns, but can’t argue.

They did steal the Death Star plans, and the Alliance did destroy the Death Star, but not in time to save Alderaan.

“Leia doesn’t blame you,” Jyn says, softly.

“I know,” Cassian agrees. “I don’t blame us either, really. We did what we could. We likely saved many other systems, so. I still wish we could’ve saved Alderaan.”

“Me too,” Jyn says.

Their quiet walk to Cassian’s room is interrupted by a noise Jyn will later refer to as a screech.

“ANDOR?”

They freeze.

Cassian looks at Jyn. “Save yourself.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m not leaving you.”

He grins, and turns, in time to see a near-livid Kes Dameron stalking towards him, eyes wide, a mixture of shock, fury, and what Jyn is pretty sure is a misunderstood joy.

Still, she steps in front of Cassian before Kes can get there.

“Get out of the way, Erso,” Kes grumbles, eyes locked on Cassian.

“Hello to you, too, Kes,” Jyn says, staring up at Kes, and not moving. “Yes, he’s alive. Yes, we’re all very shocked. No, you don’t need to attack him.”

“I’m not--” Kes sighs, and deflates.

He looks down at Jyn for a moment, and then back up to Cassian.

The two men stare at each other.

“Hello, Kes,” Cassian says.

“Why are you like this?” Kes asks him, and Jyn laughs.

She steps out of the way, and Kes hugs Cassian, the two of them smiling fondly.

“Stop kriffing almost-dying,” Kes mutters into Cassian’s shoulder.

“I really don’t try to,” Cassian insists. “And it isn’t fun, not at all.”

“You’re almost-dying more,” Kes says. “At a more frequent rate. It used to be three years between almost-dyings, and now it’s six months in between. They’re coming more rapidly. At the rate you’re going, the next time will be--”

“You sound like Kay.”

Kes stills, and stares at Cassian.

Kes then looks down at Jyn, but she only smiles, and shrugs.

“We’re talking about Kay-Tu now?” Kes asks, clearly surprised.

“Do you _want_ to talk about Kay?” Cassian returns.

“I mean… Not me, not really,” Kes says. “But I thought… I don’t know, do you?”

Cassian shrugs.

“Later, maybe,” he says, fiddling with the strap of his bag, as Kes stares. “But I’m going to spend the rest of today helping Jyn pack her things, and then I’m going to sleep.”

“Pack?” Kes repeats. “Jyn, where are you--”

“ _Cassian!_ ”

They all turn, to see Shara, beaming, run straight down the hall, past Kes and Jyn, and throw herself into Cassian’s arms.

“I just ran into Leia,” she says, arms tight around Cassian’s neck. “And she told me about Lemniscate, and you being tortured, but left alive! Kriff, Cass, stop doing this to us!”

“Tortured?” Kes repeats. “ _Lemniscate?_ Isn’t that an Imperial prison on Coruscant?”

“It is,” Jyn says.

Kes looks at her.

“What the hell happened this week? I thought you guys were going to the Atrivis Sector.”

“We did,” Jyn says, and this is the truth. “We just got a little side-tracked, too.”

Kes snorts. “Yeah, no kidding.” But the smile drops from his face as he turns serious. “Wait, Jyn, are you leaving the Alliance?”

“What? No,” Jyn says, and then realizes why Kes is asking her this, having heard Cassian say she was going to pack. “Oh, no. No, I’m… I’m moving into Cassian’s room.”

His room is bigger than Jyn’s. It makes more sense that she move, rather than Cassian.

Kes gawks at her for a moment, before a smile spreads over his face.

“Took my advice?” he asks. “Talked it out? Finished the fight together?”

“Something like that. Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“I should give advice more often.”

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Cassian does help Jyn pack.

This doesn’t take long; Jyn has not acquired a lot over her six months with the Alliance.

It takes longer for them to carry the clothes, blankets, and dishware they’d gotten from the Erso house on Lah’mu into the surplus room in Echo Base.

Jyn looks around the surplus room, at the clothes hanging on racks, ponchos and raincoats lining the walls, boots piled on the floor in a corner.

She looks over, and sees Cassian, talking to a fairly new recruit, who is adding everything to an inventory list.

She thinks of Cassian, a year ago on Yavin 4, carrying Taraja’s old gray scarf and leaving it behind in a similar surplus room.

She thinks of how she found it then.

She hangs up an old shirt of her father’s, and wonders who will find and use her parents’ things, later. She wonders how these things will help them.

Cassian approaches her, a grim look on his face.

“I have some bad news, Jyn.”

“What?” Jyn asks, immediately wary.

“Solo is joining your squad next week,” Cassian says. “He still hasn’t found a team he really gets on with, so Leia is going to try him with yours.”

She snorts.

It isn’t that she doesn’t get along with Han Solo; she mostly does. He’s funny, and witty, and quick with a blaster. But he’s exactly like who she used to be, before Jedha, before the Death Star; focused only on his own survival, prioritizing it over everything else, not really interested in the cause itself. She thinks Solo has room to grow, like she did; he just hasn’t gotten there yet.

Her trial by fire was Scarif, and it’s changed her for the better.

She knows Solo will have one, too, though she doesn’t know what, or when, it will be.

“We’re going to eat him alive,” she says to Cassian now.

“Yeah, I know. He and Leia must be fighting again, she’s clearly punishing him.”

Jyn frowns. “You still think they’re into each other?”

“Definitely,” Cassian says, smirking. “They haven’t figured it out yet.” At Jyn’s disbelieving look, he adds, “Jyn, I told you; I am very good at reading people, and knowing when they like each other, even when they don’t act like it.”

She knows he thinks he is.

But she knows of Ethan Bain, now, too, and the secret he’s never given away to Cassian.

Still, she’ll let him have this one.

“We’ll see,” she says.

 

* * *

 

They eat dinner in the mess hall in Echo Base that night.

They start out alone, just the two of them sitting across from each other, but by the time they’re finished, they’re surrounded by other rebels.

The first are, predictably, Kes and Shara, who don’t even bother with a greeting before launching into summaries of the Rebel missions around the galaxy, and the gossip around the base, that Jyn and Cassian have missed during their week away. Shara leans on Cassian’s shoulder, and describes the faulty manual override switch in her x-wing, and how she’s grounded until she can get it fixed, and Cassian barely waits until she’s stopped talking before telling her that he’d like to try pottery again sometime.

She straightens, and stares at him.

“ _Really?_ ”

“Jyn wants to, as well,” he adds, nodding at Jyn.

Shara turns to Jyn, a bright smile lighting up her face. “ _Really?_ ”

“Cassian’s told me a little bit about it, and Sernpidal,” Jyn says. “I’d like to know more.”

“Yes, please, join us! My sister sent me directions for a new type of vase, I’ve been bugging Cassian for six months to try it with me--”

“Hey, wait, Jyn isn’t Sernpidalian,” Kes interrupts. “Why does she get to join your pottery club?”

“You can too, Kes,” Cassian says.

“You’re only saying that because you’re letting _Jyn_ join your little club--”

“No, we’d like you there, too,” Cassian says. “Right, Shara?”

Shara nods, looking a little pained. “Yeah, Kes, we would. But I’ll warn you, we are _really_ awful--”

“I already know you are, dear, I’ve seen your vases.”

“I really shouldn’t be as terrible as I am,” Cassian mutters, looking thoughtful. “My mother was a potter.”

Shara and Kes still, and look at Cassian.

Jyn smiles, because she knows Cassian has barely spoken to anyone about his mother, about her work, about who she was. She’s glad he’s decided to now.

“You never told me that,” Shara says, softly.

“It never came up.”

“Like _hell_ it _never came up_ \--”

“Ssh,” Kes interjects. “Tell us about her, Cass. She was from Sernpidal, obviously.”

“Yes,” Cassian says. “She grew up there, and learned how to make pottery there, and brought that talent with her to Fest, where she met my father. I… Her name was Serafima Cassiano, though she took my father’s name--”

“Wait, hold the transmission,” Shara interrupts. “ _Cassiano?_ ”

“Yes, I was named after her--”

“No, I mean…” Shara pauses, and her eyes are wide, and she’s staring at Cassian like she’s never actually seen him clearly before, and it’s enough to make Cassian, Jyn, and Kes all stare at her. “The Cassianos are a _really_ well-known family on Sernpidal. Very famous. Like… The closest thing we have to royalty. They’re known for making the most beautiful, exquisite pottery on the planet, and they’re, like, insanely wealthy because of it.”

A long silence follows this speech.

“Holy mother of meteors,” Kes whispers. “Cassian is an heir? Cassian’s _rich?_ ”

“No,” Cassian says, automatically.

“You might be,” Shara says. “Even the Sernpidalians--and by that I mean the actual native creatures of Sernpidal, not the humans--know and respect the Cassianos. The human population is so small in comparison to the population of Sernpidalians, but they all _definitely_ know who the Cassianos are. They’re very admired. But no one’s heard about the Cassianos in a while, or at least I haven’t, but I don’t really keep up with news from home while I’m on base. I’ll message my sister and see what she’s heard.” Shara shakes her head, smiling widely. “Kriff, I can’t believe I never asked you what your mother’s name was, what with you walking around with a name like _Cassian_ , with a mother from Sernpidal.”

Cassian looks at Jyn, and she grins.

“We _definitely_ have to go to Sernpidal now,” she tells him. “You might have family there.”

Because she knows this is what Cassian is really hung up on, what has stunned him the most. The idea that Serafima was from a well-known _family_ on Sernpidal, well-known enough that Cassian might be able to find them.

“I might have family there,” Cassian repeats, and his dark eyes, eyes that Jyn now knows he inherited from Serafima, are wide.

Family is something neither of them have ever had plenty of, and never for a long enough time.

“Yeah, and _credits_ ,” Kes adds in a not-so-subtle whisper, causing Shara to laugh.

Their table slowly fills with other rebels, rebels who are eager to say hello to Jyn and Cassian, and offer their delight that Cassian was not, in fact, killed on Coruscant. These soldiers all ask for a summary of what had happened, and so Jyn and Cassian repeat themselves, describing Ethan as an old Imperial contact of Cassian’s, because it is far simpler and easier than the truth.

She doesn’t think Ethan would mind this half-truth.

As the evening wears on, Jyn happens to look over Cassian’s shoulder, and see Luke Skywalker, the destroyer of the Death Star, talking to a gold protocol droid she’s seen around Leia Organa before.

Jyn knows Luke Skywalker is nice, is friendly, is well-liked around Echo Base, but she has never found it in herself to speak to him, save for the time he pulled her and Cassian aside to tell them that he and another pilot, Wedge Antilles, were christening a new x-wing squadron as Rogue Squadron.

“In memory of Rogue One,” he’d told them, light blue eyes dancing.

Cassian had been, unsurprisingly, cool and gracious, and thanked Luke for the gesture, while Jyn had become numb.

Rogue One was dead, but she and Cassian weren’t.

“Maybe we should’ve died on Scarif,” she’d whispered to Cassian that night, staring at the wall of his room. “With the rest of them.”

“But we didn’t,” Cassian had said. “All we can do now is make them proud.”

She thinks that’s the point of Rogue Squadron, now; to make the ghosts of Rogue One proud.

She looks at Luke Skywalker from across the mess hall.

The light blue color of his eyes inevitably reminds her of Chirrut, and his eyes, as does Luke Skywalker’s dedication to the Force. Luke’s long hair, and the way his jaw tenses up whenever a rebel reports in with bad news regarding Imperial movements reminds her of Bodhi, and his strong determination to fight the Empire. Luke’s soft smile, and the look of consternation he gets when he spots Han Solo and Leia Organa bickering reminds her of Baze, and how patient, and almost adoring, he was with Jyn when it was so obvious he’d rather be anywhere else.

She can see the ghosts of Cassian’s past peeking out of his eyes whenever she looks at him.

She thinks she can see the ghosts of Rogue One peeking out of Luke Skywalker’s eyes whenever she looks at him.

They can make their sacrifice worth it.

They can make them all proud.

 

* * *

 

Jyn has only been asleep for about ten minutes when she is startled awake by Cassian’s yelp of surprise.

She sits up straight, her body quick to wake after years of sleeping in dangerous places, and turns, to see Cassian sitting up next to her, a small pile of tools on the bed on his other side. He’s staring at the blue hologram glowing from the projector in his hands, and when she sees the image, she gasps, too.

It’s her, and her mother, and her father.

The Ersos, together again, together in the past, the only place they can be.

She can be no older than six, or seven, she thinks, going by the length of the twin braids her hair is tied in, and the teeth missing from her gums. She’s in her mother’s lap, and her heart aches at her mother’s soft smile, her brown hair so similar to Jyn’s now, in length and color. Her father is sitting next to them, one arm wrapped around Lyra’s shoulders, the other stretched, his fingers tickling Jyn’s cheek.

As Jyn watches, her younger self laughs, and laughs.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Cassian tells her.

“Jyn, Jyn,” he breathes, touching her face, but she shakes her head, reaching for the projector, which he passes to her without question.

She can’t stop staring at her family.

She can hear Cassian moving around her, piling the tools on the floor, and then turning back to her, wrapping his arms around her, and pressing his cheek to her hair.

“We were so _happy_ ,” Jyn whispers.

He nods, and kisses her head. “I know.”

“The Empire, it just… It took that all away from us. It _broke_ us.”

“It didn’t break _you_ ,” Cassian murmurs.

“Not yet,” Jyn says.

“It won’t,” Cassian says, and he sounds very confident. “You can survive anything. You’ve proven that, time and time again.”

She isn’t so sure, but she internalizes his words nonetheless.

They stare at the hologram.

“You have your mother’s smile,” Cassian says, unexpectedly.

“Yeah,” Jyn agrees, because she can see it now, too.

“But you do have your father’s eyes.”

“Yeah,” Jyn says, and she’s always known this.

Cassian looks at her.

“I said it on Scarif,” he says, “But I’m not sure you remember. And it’s important that you do: your father would be proud of you, Jyn. In fact… I’d say he _is_. Your mother, too.”

And Jyn smiles, thinking of her recent understanding of Cassian’s quiet spirituality, his certainty that his ghosts are still near, that they return to him when he needs them.

She reaches for the kyber crystal at her neck, turning it over in her hand.

She thinks of her own ghosts, and being on Lah’mu, and feeling them so close, like she could walk around a corner in her parents’ house, or look out over the sea, and see them right there.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I think so, too.”

She switches the projector off, and looks at it in her hands for a moment, before turning back to Cassian.

“Thank you,” she says.

He shrugs. “I was right, it did just need a new power cell. That was it.”

“No, I know,” Jyn says. “I just… _Thank you_ , Cassian.”

His expression softens; he understands why she’s thanking him.

Because he’s always understood her.

She’s thanking him for that, and so much more.

For showing her Mantooine, where he scattered Taraja’s ashes, where he wore white and spoke in a foreign language and walked in sunlight and was jeered at for his outsider status.

For showing her Fest, where he grew up, where he learned to fight and cook and fly, where he buried his family, where he defied the odds and survived, among the gray ice and harsh frost.

And for showing her Coruscant, where he came of age, where he met Asori, where he lived with Taraja, where he spied alongside Ethan Bain, where he killed, where he loved and was loved, where he almost died.

But he showed her more than these landscapes.

On Lah’mu, he showed her what home really was.

He reminded her, that home was her parents’ house. Home was green mountains. Home was black sand. Home was the sea, the salt, the wind.

Home was Cassian, next to her, through it all.

Despite it all.

Every step of the way.

He hears her thanks, and he understands all of this from it.

“I love you,” he tells her, again.

This time, she could tell him the same thing. She’s told him before.

But she says something else now, something she has said, recently, though he didn’t accept it at the time.

“All the way,” she says.

He blinks, considering this, and then he nods.

“Yeah,” he says now. “Okay. I believe you, Jyn.”

She grins, and sets the projector on the floor next to the bed, before climbing into his lap. “Good.”

He smiles, his grin matching her own, and settles his hands on her waist. “Good.”

He’s still smiling when she kisses him.

 

* * *

 

They’re assigned to patrol the perimeter in the morning, to check the Alliance’s alarms and make sure the Empire has not found them on Hoth.

Cassian tells her this is likely a kind of punishment, for their decision to go to Coruscant without explicit permission from Alliance Command.

Jyn finds she isn’t too bothered by this.

She doesn’t mind the tauntauns, but she knows they make Cassian nervous, even though he’d never admit it.

After patrolling the perimeter, they return the tauntauns to their pen, and decide to walk the last loop around the hangar of Echo Base by themselves.

They are both bundled up in parkas and scarves, and so Jyn can’t see all of Cassian’s face when she tells him that she wants to learn Festian.

He does pause in his walk, and turn his head towards her, and she can see his eyes, how wide they are.

“You don’t have to,” he says.

“I know,” Jyn agrees. “But it’s… It’s important to you, to speak it, I think. Because it reminds you of home, and it’s something you grew up with. It’s something you like to remember, and so I want to remember it, too.”

He considers this.

“Then you can teach me how to swim,” he says.

Jyn laughs. “Where the hell can we do that _here?_ This planet is just a giant icicle.”

“Then it’ll be something we do _unofficially_ ,” Cassian replies. “On our next _official_ mission.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have any missions together for awhile.”

“That’s fine,” Cassian says. “I can wait. Next time.”

“Next time,” Jyn agrees. “But you can start teaching me Festian anytime.”

“I will.”

They walk a few more feet in comfortable silence, and then Jyn speaks again.

“We’re going to go to Sernpidal sometime, the next time, right?” She asks, her words choppy. “To find your family?”

Cassian is quiet, considering this, and they walk another ten feet in silence, save for the noise of their boots sinking into the white snow.

“I think I would like to go to Sernpidal,” he agrees, at last. “I would like to see where my mother was from. And I’d like to find her family, if I could.”

“Cass, you could have a family again,” Jyn says, and she is honestly so thrilled for him.

Cassian looks at her.

“I would like to meet my mother’s relatives, and find out who she was, but, Jyn, you… You know that I consider _you_ to be my family, right? You know that you’re all the family I could need?”

She blinks, staring up at him, the bright Hoth sun almost blinding her.

She knows she shouldn’t be surprised, that Cassian considering her to be his family is only logical. It makes sense.

But she’s still so touched, and so grateful, and she doesn’t know what to say.

_You_ , she thinks. _You’re my family, too. You’re my home_.

She will tell him this, sooner rather than later.

They stop at the edge of the ice-covered cliff that makes up the side of Echo Base. They stare up at it, and then Jyn turns to Cassian.

“Race you to the top?”

He laughs. “Jyn. I grew up climbing ice, just like this. I’m definitely going to beat you.”

“It’s true you grew up climbing ice on Fest,” Jyn says, because she knows this is true, now. “But you’ve forgotten two things.”

“Like what?”

“Like, that I’m faster than you.”

She can practically see his frown hidden behind his scarf, and he opens his mouth--

But she’s already thrown herself at the ice, has already dug her gloves into the snow, has already pressed her boots into the stone of the cliff, and has already started to climb.

“And,” she yells, not turning back to see whatever expression Cassian is making behind his scarf, “You should remember that I am not afraid to _cheat!_ ”

She has the hood of her parka pulled up, but she can still hear his loud laughter, and she feels the ice tremble under her hands when he begins to climb after her.

He climbs below her, and she knows now, how significant climbing has been in his life, how it was something he did with his sister and brother on Fest, and then in the Coruscant Underworld with Taraja, and then on Scarif, when he thought completing the climb was going to kill him, but had done it anyway, because he knew he couldn’t leave Jyn like that.

He associates so many memories, so many people, with climbing.

She hopes he’ll remember this climb, as well.

She believes that he will.

She beats him to the top, as she said she would, and they lie there on the top of the cliff, hands brushing, and stare at the cold gray sun overhead.

Cassian turns his head, and smiles at her from under the soft blue scarf wrapped over the lower half of his face, his dark eyes peeking out at her.

She looks back, and smiles at him.

_You must remember this_ , she thinks. _Remember his smile, and this climb, and the ice, and this feeling. Remember being so happy, just like this_.

He stares back at her, and she knows he’s thinking something similar.

It is something they will both remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No Sound But The Wind” is a song by Editors, with the most beautiful piano.
> 
> This story originated from my post-project depression, having finished the First Nonsense (GRAY AREAS) after writing, solidly, almost everyday, for three months. I knew I could either try to return to one of my neglected original projects, or… go back to the Nonsense. Hence this story, which I wrote in, and I swear this is true, eight days. I was *really* desperate to write about Cassian again. 
> 
> I lived in Cassian’s head for three months, but I wanted to explore who he was from another perspective, and Jyn was the logical, and optimal, perspective. I also wanted to consider who Cassian would’ve become post-Scarif, especially with how he ends GRAY AREAS: remarkably at peace, confident his work has been worth it, that he’s achieved redemption; where do you go from there? And I wanted to explore Jyn, too, and what she might’ve done, and who she was, from the end of ROGUE ONE. 
> 
> Basically this story just turned into an exploration of memory, home, understanding, loss, and above all, I think, intimacy, and the wide spectrum of it.
> 
> I want to say I’m finally done, but that was also what I thought at the end of GRAY AREAS, and here we are, some 50k words later, plus BLOOD BROTHERS. There is an obvious potential next story in this series (Sernpidal) but if this is the last story, which let’s assume it is, I can definitely say it ended as happily as it possibly could for the Cassian I have spent the first four months of this year writing about, and I’m satisfied.
> 
> I would be delighted to hear your comments on the story, or the Nonsense series as a whole (if you’ve read all three parts… Congrats, I know it is A Monster of a Love Letter) either here, or on tumblr; I am theputterer there too.


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